#stars i am so sad and so unsure how to cope with it

[abandonmutt]

.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Under Silken Skies [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

A/N - just an angsty little oneshot I needed to get out of my head. Fufills my Break Up Square on my CM Bingo Card for @cmbingo​ . My permanent Tag List is open. Find my CM Bingo Masterlist Here. Find my full masterlist here.

My request are also Open for prompts/reqs/headcannons/aesthetics or just to say hi.

CW - major character death and lots of angst. Very vague mentions of smut and virgin! Spencer, vague mentions of Maeve and what happens to Spencer in the S15 finale (if it had ended differently). This does not have a happy ending.

WC: 4K

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He was eleven and you were thirteen. You didn’t know his name, only he was smart and awkward and got teased because of those things.

You found him tied to a flagpole as you’d left detention one night on your way across the soccer field. He was naked aside from his underwear and blindfolded. 

He cried as you untied him, his skin like ice. You insisted you were there to help, whether he believed you or not you weren’t sure. 

You stripped off your oversized jumper and slipped it over his head, helping him guide his arms in the holes. He didn’t thank you. He didn’t ask why. He just wrapped himself in the warmth.

He told you his name was Spencer. Spencer Reid and he’d been tricked by a girl and stripped of his clothes and tied to the flagpole. 

He’d been there hours before you found him. 

You sat together on the dewy grass, no more than a handful of words passed between you. He asked why you’d helped, why you’d stayed but you’d simply shrugged. 

Maybe you’d felt bad for him or maybe you’d felt drawn to him. You knew all about school bullies. 

He seemed so small and unsure of himself, as though the mere act of sitting with you was cause for panic. 

He didn’t make eye contact. You saw him glance in your direction a few times when you weren’t looking. 

He was so fragile you didn’t understand how anyone could do that to such an innocent creature. He just wanted to fit in, isn’t that all we really wanted? 

He couldn’t help being smart. 

There was a sadness about him that went further than what the bullies had done today. You could tell it was the kind of air that followed him around, a permanent dark cloud. 

It hurt you to know someone so young could carry so much pain. It didn’t seem fair that at his tender age he already seemed defeated by the world that surely had so much more to throw at him. 

What if he wasn’t strong enough to cope with the terrors of the world? You hoped maybe these formative years would make him stronger against what was to come. Maybe it was helping to build up those walls early, making him stronger for the horrors he would no doubt have to face later in life.

You weren’t sure, but one thing you were sure of was Spencer Reid had sad, sad eyes. You could tell he needed a friend and maybe you could be it. Maybe you could protect him.

So for now the two of you sat side by side on the soccer field, under the moonlit silken sky.

***

He was twelve and you fourteen and he was finally getting out of the hell hole that was high school. 

It was his graduation day and his gown drowned his small frame and his cap was too big for his head and kept falling to the side.

You straightened it for him again and gave him a soft smile. 

He was going to CalTech in the fall and you were so proud of him, but gosh were you going to miss him. 

It had only been little over a year since the night on the soccer field but the two of you had become friends. He helped you with your homework and you kept the bullies away from him. 

You’d become his protector, he looked up to you and although he would never tell anyone this, he had a crush on you. A big one. 

He was excited about CalTech but he was sad to leave you. 

There were a lot of mixed emotions in the air. You’d stay in touch and he’d come back and visit but it wouldn’t be the same.

Who was going to keep him safe at college? Who was going to keep an eye on him? What happened if the bullies at CalTech were even worse and you were hundreds of miles away not being able to do anything about it?

He’d told you not to worry about him, that he’d be fine but it was hard not to. He was still so tiny and fragile, like a baby bird and if truth be told you were scared for him. 

“I’m proud of you Crash.” You straightened his tie. 

He rolled his eyes under his thick glasses. One time you’d heard his mom call him that and you hadn’t stopped calling him it since. 

“Thanks Y/N.” He smiled but it was a sad smile. 

You placed your hands gently on his shoulders, knowing what he was thinking. You’d gotten really good at reading his mind.

“Me too.” You whispered. You leant close and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

His face turned crimson and he chewed his lip. His cheek felt like it was on fire where your lips had touched him. 

“Come on Crash, it’s time.” You slid your hand in his and started leading him towards the stage he was going to walk over and accept his diploma. 

Within a matter of weeks he would be gone and you’d be alone again just as you had been before you’d met him. 

So for now the two of you walked hand in hard across towards the stage, under the sun soaked silken sky.

***

Spencer was sixteen and you were eighteen and you’d just witnessed his second graduation; this time from CalTech. 

The gown fit him a lot better this time than it had at his high school graduation. Over the last year or so he had sprung up in height, now towering over you. He had grown up a lot over the last few years. He was slowly becoming a man. 

“Look at you.” You nudged him in the arm. “So grown up.”

“Shut up.” He batted you away with a shy smile. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come here if I knew all you were going to do was embarrass me.”

“Sorry Crash.” you smirked. “I am so, so proud of you kid.” 

You gently tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. His cheeks burned in embarrassment. 

He was coming back to Vegas and you would have been thrilled if it wasn’t for the fact in a few months you were going off to college yourself. 

It seemed unfair life had brought you together only to tear you apart over and over again. There seemed like there was never a right time for the two of you. 

“You ready?” you asked him softly, trying not to focus on the thought of being torn away from him again. 

“Almost.” he nodded, taking a few deep breaths.

You assumed he was trying to calm his nerves before taking to the stage for his graduation ceremony but it wasn’t that. 

His hands were shaking when he came close to you and placed them on your hips.

“What are you doing?” you tilted your head at him in confusion.

Before Spencer could change his mind about his next move he closed his eyes and moved in close to you. His lips were so soft as they pressed against yours, barely ghosting your lips. You could have been convinced it hadn’t even happened. 

He chewed his lip bashfully when he pulled back, looking at the floor.

“Sorry.” he whispered. “I uhm...lets go.” 

He walked past you, leaving you staring in his wake.

Had that really just happened? 

You brushed your fingers against your lips in disbelief. But your lips were tingling, it had definitely happened. 

Eventually you followed him in confusion but there was no time to ask him about it. Hopefully you’d get a chance to later.

So for now you walked behind him, watching him adjust his cap, under the Californian silken sky.

***

Spencer was now eighteen and you were twenty, in your final year at Georgetown. 

Spencer now had a doctorate in mathematics and was working towards one in chemistry. He kept talking about doing another doctorate in engineering when he was through.  

He had grown even more so and was really starting to grow into his looks. He’d always been cute, but recently when you looked at him you saw a handsome man looking back at you. 

Hanging out in your dorm that night it was hard to say how it started. One minute you’d been engrossed in a movie, your head on Spencer’s shoulder and the next you lips were pressed together, his tongue exploring your mouth. 

He hadn’t kissed you again since his CalTech graduation and you didn’t know where this had come from now. But you did know you’d been thinking more inappropriate thoughts about your friend as of late and they were seemingly materialising in front of your eyes. 

Spencer was a virgin, you were not. In that moment you wished he could have been your first time. 

It was slow and gentle and Spencer was a bag of nerves the whole time. He groped at your body with seemingly no purpose other than to feel every part of you. 

He didn’t last long, the feeling of being inside of you was too intense, too sensational. But it was nice. It felt right. It felt like home.

Afterwards he held you in his arms in your small single bed too nervous to look you in the eye. You stroked circles on his bare chest feeling the most content you’d felt in a long time. 

You both stared up at the ceiling which you’d painted midnight blue and was peppered with glow in the dark stars. 

“Spence?” You whispered softly.

“Yes Y/N?”

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

He exhaled and pulled you into him closer.

“I know.” He kissed the top of your head. “And I love you.”

You didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. You didn’t know if this was a one time thing or if this meant you were together now. You suppose it didn’t much matter right now. The only thing that mattered right now was Spencer holding you in his arms.

So for now you laid there together on your dorm room bed, under a mural of the silken sky.

***

He was twenty two and you were twenty four, and he’d just been offered a job at the FBI. 

In Quantico, Virginia.

You were sure you’d spent your whole relationship out of state from one another. The past three years Spencer had been away while he worked on a second BA and then his third doctorate. 

Since leaving college you’d stayed put in Vegas, getting a job as a curator at a local art gallery. 

You saw Spencer when you could but it never seemed to be enough. At least not for you. 

And then he’d dropped the bombshell about his job offer and told you he was moving to the other side of the country. 

It had been hard enough over the years to maintain your relationship but you were sure this would be the death of you. And so you’d told Spencer it was time the two of you went your separate ways.

He’d tried to argue that you could make it work but you weren’t willing to find out. The four years you’d gotten had been amazing but all good things had to come to an end.

And maybe you and Spencer had never been destined. It had always been just a little too difficult. You’d finally thought once you were in the same state it would be easier, but he was leaving again. 

It was hard but he supposed he understood. He would miss you with every fibre of his being but this job was too good for him to pass up.

You told him if you were meant to be, you’d find your way back to each other one day, although you weren’t sure you believed that. 

You sat on the swing set in the desolate park together, hands entwined together as you swung back and forth on your separate swings. 

He was leaving tomorrow. He was packed, his flight was booked and he had an apartment to go to in DC. 

He was leaving and you were staying and it broke your heart. 

“I’m gonna miss you Crash.” You squeezed his hand.

“I’m going to miss you too Y/N.” 

It felt like the end of an era but an era that had never really had a chance to begin.

He was supposed to be your one true love, your greatest love story. But this story didn’t get a happy ending.

You swung back and forth into the night, just revelling in being with him one last time. You couldn’t think about tomorrow. Tomorrow was a world away.

So for now you swung, hand in hand, under the midnight silken sky.

***

You were twenty nine and you loved him, you really loved him.

He had turned your whole world upside down and made you feel things you’d never thought you’d feel again.

You loved him, you really did.

But he wasn’t Spencer Reid. 

Maybe you’d gotten lucky and got to have two great loves of your life. Your life with Spencer was over long ago, it was only fair you were allowed to move on.

You wondered what twenty seven year old Spencer was doing with his life. Was he still at the BAU? Did he get a fourth doctorate? Was he happy?

God you hoped he was happy.

It was a small ceremony in front of your closest friends and family. No frills, no fuss. Just you and him being joined in matrimony. 

He was a good guy, a nice guy; he treated you right and he loved you. At the end of the day, that’s all that mattered right?

So you didn’t get butterflies in your stomach when he kissed you. Maybe you didn’t go weak at the knees when he looked at you or felt like you were coming home when you made love. And so what if you’d felt all those things with Spencer? That didn’t matter, did it? It didn’t mean you didn’t love your new husband.

It was just a different kind of love. You weren’t in your teens falling in love for the first time. This was the kind of love you had when you grew up and got older. It didn’t mean it meant any less; that he meant any less to you.

He led you outside by your hand as your friends and family showered you in confetti. He turned and smiled at you brightly. He looked the happiest you’d ever seen him, you didn’t know if you could match his happiness. 

You smiled back at him, probably not quite meeting his enthusiasm but if he noticed he didn’t say as much. It was only now that you looked down at the ring around your finger did it suddenly feel like a noose. You couldn’t allow yourself to think about how wrong it suddenly felt.

So for now you allowed your new husband to kiss you, under the Vegas Springtime silken sky.

***

He was thirty one and she was thirty. Her voice was like honey and he yearned to be able to hold her in his arms.

Her name was Maeve Donnovan and she had a stalker which was preventing them from meeting.

It was the first time Spencer had felt anything akin to love since you. He was sure he would never love again, you were the only person that could take that place in his heart.

And then had started having headaches and sought out the help of a geneticist and he started falling in love with her. For the first time in years you weren’t the first thing on his mind when he woke up in the morning. He didn’t spend all his waking hours pining over you. 

Maeve was slowly but surely replacing you in his heart. And Spencer really needed that. He needed you finally gone from his mind. 

“I think the stalker’s gone Spencer.” she’d told him that Sunday on the phone. 

A huge weight had been lifted from her voice, he could hear the smile in it down the payphone. He couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure yeah.” she was smiling brightly. He knew she would have a beautiful smile. 

“That’s great Maeve.” he smiled, gripping the phone in hands. 

Did that mean what he thought it meant? Could they finally meet now? Have a normal relationship?

“I want to meet.” her words were rushed as though she weren’t sure she should be saying them. But he caught them.

She wanted to meet. She wanted to meet him. 

He didn’t care what she looked like because she was already the most beautiful woman in the world to him. But what if she didn’t like him? What if he was too nerdy, what if his hair was too long and messy? What if she took one look at him and turned and ran?

He swallowed those nerves, trying to push them aside for another day. 

So for now he smiled shakily down the phone, under the blustery DC silken sky.

***

You were forty and recently divorced. You knew on your wedding day it would end this way.

You loved your husband but you would never love him the way you loved Spencer. You managed ten years before you’d called it quits. He’d always known your heart didn’t fully belong to him.

You missed Spencer everyday and it was so unfair how he could still take up so much of your mind. It was a cruel world you supposed. Maybe you just weren’t supposed to be happy.

You’d had your happiness and it had been short lived. But you were thankful for the brief happiness you had been given. It was more than some people got you supposed.

He was thirty eight and home visiting his mother. He didn’t work full time at the BAU anymore since his reinstatement after he was incarcerated and lectured at Georgetown part time. It allowed him more free time to fly out to Vegas to see his mom.

Lecturing at Georgetown brought back so many memories for him. Georgetown was the place he had lost his virginity, the place he’d told you he loved you for the first time. Georgetown held so many pleasant memories for Spencer but they were all bittersweet.

After spending some time grieving Maeve after she died, his mind landed right back on you. It seemed he was always pining over someone. It wasn’t fair. 

He was getting coffee on his way back to the hotel he was staying in when a familiar face materialised in front of him.

You weren’t there one moment and then suddenly you were, as though you had just appeared out of thin air. 

You held your own coffee cup in your hand, your eyes wide and jaw slack. He watched you swallow a lump in your throat.

“Hi Crash.” you couldn’t help his old nickname tumble out from between your lips.

“Hi Y/N.” his voice croaked, still trying to comprehend how you could so suddenly be here in front of him after all these years of absence.

He felt like that twenty two year old swinging with you side by side in the park counting down the hours until he left you. 

He felt like the sixteen year old young man who was falling hopelessly in love with you.

He felt like the eleven year old boy utterly grateful for you untying him from the flagpole. 

“It’s been a long time.” you spoke, your mouth dry.

“A really long time.” he agreed with a stiff nod. 

“Uhm...do you want to...coffee?” you ignored the fact you both had coffees in your hand. 

“O-ok.” he nodded stiffly again.

After all these years you had so much to say to each other but no words would come out. 

So for now you walked in silence down the Vegas street, under the cloud coated silken sky.

***

He was thirty nine years old when the explosion occurred. He’d thought it was just a concussion and didn’t pay it much mind. 

You were forty one years old when you received the phone call from Penelope Garcia to inform you that Spencer was in the hospital.

They called it intracranial bleeding, his brain was swelling, bleeding; shutting down. They’d told you there was nothing they could do.

How cruel this life had been to you. It had stolen Spencer away from you when your relationship barely had a chance to blossom. It had brought him back into your life, for the two of you to fall back in love with each other only to have one final year together.

It had been the greatest year of your life and you had to try and focus on that as David Rossi read his eulogy. 

He spoke all about Spencer’s life, the life you’d barely gotten to be a part of. Hearing it second hand and not from Spencer’s lips was tragic enough in itself. 

You didn’t really feel as though you belonged here. You didn’t know him the way his team members knew him. You felt like a stranger in this place now. 

You’d jumped at moving to DC when you and Spencer reunited because there was no way you were making the same mistake twice and letting him get away again. But now DC seemed like a suddenly very lonely place. 

As the brilliant man you knew and loved was being lowered into the ground, his final resting place, the heavens opened. The rain cascaded down from the sky and you couldn’t help but think how apt it was on this already bleak day. 

Garcia came to you at his graveside when the ceremony was over. The rain disguised your tears. She nudged you with her shoulder, her own tears falling.

“The world is going to be a very different place without boy genius in it.” she sobbed as she spoke.

“You’re telling me.” you chewed your lip, your eyes locked on his headstone as you spoke. 

“He loved you know? He always loved you.”

You nodded statically not looking at the other woman. You knew he loved you, that much you were sure of. You only wished you had more time. 

Maybe if you’d know what life had in store you would have come with him to DC all those years ago. Had you known you didn’t have all the time in the world, that your love only had a finite number of days you might have been more inclined to cling to them.

That was hindsight though you supposed and dwelling on it didn’t change the past. What was done was done. You didn’t go to DC with him, you stayed in Vegas. You spent years pining over him only to have the universe throw you back together again. 

And then he’d been snatched from you once more in the most horrific way. And now it was over for good.

“Come on Y/N, you’ll catch a cold if you stay out here.” Garcia placed a gentle arm on your shoulder.

“I’ll be right there.” you told her, still not looking away from where the love of your life was buried beneath the dirt.

You heard her leave as more tears started to fall from your eyes. Your knees gave out and you fell to the grass in the rain. 

You sobbed into your hands, cursing life for being so unyielding. But there was nothing you could do about it. The wheels had been set into motion long before you and Spencer had even met. This was always the way things were going to end up. Fate was a cruel mistress. 

And so you knelt in the dirt sobbing next to the grave of the love of your life, under the grey, weeping silken sky.  

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Tag List -

@muffin-cup​

@andiebeaword​

[dragonrajafanfiction]

A Sea of Stars

The modified plane of the Gear Department landed heavily on the sandy airstrip in the pitch black of night. It was only EVAs guidance that told them where to land. This airstrip used to be an official landing area of the military but now was recorded in only a few satellite images and no longer maintained. The runway was so short, the plane practically had to slow and drop onto the strip and brake hard, pressing the passengers forcefully into their seatbelts. Tigre, unable to cope with the force of it, buried his face in the paper bag and puked.

Mingfei patted his back in sympathy. “Hey, take your time, we’ve got some cargo to unload anyway.”

In a few moments, Mingfei stood on the landing strip and waved. The cargo bay opened and hit the ground, sending up a plume of dust. A massive truck rolled backwards onto the tarmac. The cargo area of the truck was covered in sand colored cloth. It rolled on tank treads, specially made for the rough desert environment. Once the truck was off the plane, Mingfei climbed into the back and started taking stock. Celeste followed him inside.

She was the one who seemed to take the most initiative, and the other girls fell in line behind her, so he wasn’t surprised she came in with him.

“Don’t worry, my sisters are watching over Tigre while we’re here.” She looked over the crates stacked in the back of the truck.

“This is actually mostly water. The high temperature of the desert right now is about 116 degrees during the heat of the day. We can travel until about 9 am and then it’s best to hunker down and stay hydrated until about midnight. There’s also medical supplies. The rest is weapons, including thermite bombs that we’ll use against any dragon nest we find.” Lu Mingfei explained, 

“This must be just like regular work to you huh?” Celeste lifted a tarp over a large crate, revealing heavy rifles.

“Sad to say... I don’t really get excited about it any more.” Lu Mingfei said, checking inventory on a clipboard. “I’ve... lost a lot of friends. I’ll try not to lose any of you guys. If it’s too dangerous, we turn back. Understand?”

Celeste eyed him for a long time. “Yes sir.”

When they stepped back out of the truck, Tigre had deplaned and seemingly completely recovered from his motion sickness. He was standing out in the open, looking up at the sky. The milky way was on full display cutting a ribbon through thousands of stars. The stars were like a massive glowing cloud that filled the entire sky. They swarmed the darkness over head like many bright bees.

Celeste walked over to him. “Don’t start singing!” She barked, breaking the silence.

“I know... I know.” Tigre lowered his head and sobbed softly into his arm. 

Lu Mingfei stood there awkwardly with his clipboard, unsure about what to do with Tigre’s strange outburst of emotion. He had been hoping to have some sort of official meeting about desert safety and have some sort of plan. Surely Caesar would know what to say at a time like this and Chu Zihang would simply ignore what was happening and leave everyone behind.

Fortunately, Ruby patted Tigre’s shoulder. “It’s a beautiful sight isn’t it?”

“Yes. I saw it in my dream.” Tigre managed to say. “I can’t believe it’s actually real. 

“What’s real?” Celeste’s hand moved to her side, to her pistol holding the Frigga bullets.

“When I took the test, I ran through a bright door until I was surrounded by stars just like this. And then when I was there, I heard the dragon voices, roaring and then singing.” He wiped his face with his sleeve and managed to regain his composure. “I want to sing so much. Maybe if I do they’ll answer.”

The plane turned and started taxiing away to take off.

“We should get going to get into position before the sun rises.” Mingfei said softly. “I’ll drive, Tigre, come sit with me in the passenger side. Ruby, Celeste, Porsche, get what rest you can in the back.”

Tigre had no issues climbing into the large truck. The engine rumbled to life as the plane fired up its engines and the twin roars struck Tigre’s heart like a bell of recognition. He raised one hand to his chest, watching the plane rise into that black sky and recalling his dream.

“Listen. Hey.” Mingfei looked at him with worry. “I know you’re excited but no matter what I need you to stay calm and in control. Your life may depend on it. I mean it. If you feel like you’re losing control of yourself, let me know. I’ll put you to sleep.”

“Alright.” Tigre nodded gravely and then gave a snappy salute.

Mingfei pointed to his eyes. “Those are contacts right?”

Tigre froze. “How did you know?”

Mingfei shrugged, not telling him he’d visited him earlier. It’s clear he didn’t remember the encounter. “You can take them off around me. Golden eyes don’t bother me.”

Tigre’s eyes widened slightly. “But... what if...”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one will see you.” He glanced at him as the truck started its rumbling trek, leaving rectangular tracks in the moonscape.

Tigre lowered his face and removed his contacts in front of Mingfei Lu. They were just are reptilian as he imagined and they glowed brightly like the stars he admired. Mingfei looked directly into his eyes. “You don’t scare me. In fact, I have a higher dragonblood purity than even yours. I’m a step higher in the hierarchy. I can feel it. You’re different and you’re strong... but your lineage... is not as strong as mine. So if things get hard. Just leave it to me. Alright?”

“Okay...” Tigre stared straight ahead, rocking with the truck.

Mingfei picked up a handset with a coiled cord. “Okay can you guys hear me in the back?”

A speaker over head conveyed the girl’s voices. “Yes!”

“We’re headed towards a passage way in the desert that’s locally known as the Death Road. No one who takes this route ever comes out the other end. They just disappear. So when we’re getting close to the danger zone, I’ll stop, survey the area and plan our attack. Whatever is in there is active and it’s deadly. But we’re deadlier, because we’re from Cassell. Alright?”

“Yes sir!”

Mingfei glanced at the handset. “Hey... that sounded kind of cool.”

A chorus of giggles told him that he’d forgotten to mute the headset and the girls heard him congratulate himself. He blushed. “I mean, over and out!” He put one hand over his face and then muted the hand set.

Tigre nodded. “It was cool.”

“Thanks. I’m nothing compared to my seniors though. They were the coolest people on the planet...”

Tigre chuckled to himself. “I think you’re pretty cool. After all, you’re not scared of me. Celeste is very scared.” His smile vanished. “She doesn’t want me to sing. She’s afraid I will hurt her and her sisters.”

“You’re fine, you’re fine! Just stay close to me okay. I’ll take care of you.”

Tigre nodded and leaned against the window.

[wonderlustxbitch]

As The World Falls Down

(THIS IS MY NEW ACCOUNT SO UPLOADING ALL MY STORIES AGAIN)

Pairing: Jareth x Reader

Fandom: Labyrinth

Warning: Fluff! Age Gap, Depressed Reader

Summary: It's been 3 years since the Reader has left the Labyrinth. When the Reader is having a rough time trying to cope with a lot going on in her life. While she's trying to balance everything, her boyfriend goes out and cheats on her. One night feeling drained and low, she playfully calls on The Goblin King. Will he show back up and help her or will he just leave her?(Reader is 18+)

Word Count: 1209

(THIS IS MY NEW ACCOUNT SO I AM UPLOADING ALL MY STORIES AGAIN)

"There's such a sad love Deep in your eyes A kind of pale jewel Open and closed Within your eyes I'll place the sky Within your eyes"

It was one of those nights, the nights you felt like you were truly going no where in life. Life was getting very difficult to even try and processes things. Laying there in my room, staring up at the ceiling trying to get my mind to stop spinning. Trying to cope with family issues and the stress between family members but the one person who had made so many promises, would end up being the one who hurts the most. I couldn't help but feel like it was all my fault, if I wasn't so worried about my dad being sick then maybe he wouldn't of cheated. Maybe if I changed this or that, I was killing myself slowly with trying to make it seem reasonable. I guess people do truly break promises, I just thought it was truly real. Just weeks before taking off to go on a small vacation together to get away and be with each other, he goes and finds someone else. I can't help the tears that were rolling down my cheeks, it wouldn't hurt so much if he didn't say he couldn't promise it wouldn't happen again if we worked things out. I rolled over and covered up looking at my clock as it read 2am.

"Honestly I'm ready to disappear for a while.." I said out loud to myself.

I tossed and turned a couple times, so exhausted but so restless. I wanted to cry even more now feeling miserable. I hate my emotions and how this is all making me feel. I thought back to when I was in the Labyrinth with Jareth...

"There's such a fooled heart Beatin' so fast In search of new dreams A love that will last Within your heart I'll place the moon Within your heart"

*Flashback* He looked me in the eyes and smiled.

"(Y/n), you have a choice to leave my labyrinth or stay here and rule by my side as my goblin queen." He said softly.

I continued to look at him so unsure of what I should choose.

"I..." I trailed off. Okay let's think about this. I'm happy with the life I already had but I'm also happy here. Why must this be such a difficult choice? Okay I think I know my answer.

"I choose to go home." I said quietly.

I looked away from him not wanting to see the hurt expression it now holds thanks to my choice. I hear him let out a upset sigh.

"As you wish (Y/n) but if you ever want to come back you know exactly what to say."

He said with a broken voice. Before I could say anything back to him I was teleported back to my home. I let out a sad sigh and went up to my room. *End of Flashback*

"I wish the goblin king would come take me away.." I said softly as the tears start flowing even heavier.

"As the pain sweeps through, Makes no sense for you Every thrill is gone Wasn't too much fun at all, But I'll be there for you As the world falls down"

I pushed my face into my pillow, gripping onto it tightly trying to calm myself down, accidentally letting out a loud sob.

"You could of asked me a long time ago you know?" His voice came from behind me.

I sat up shocked still with tears streaming down my face. I couldn't believe he came when I called him. I thought he would hate me for leaving. I truly hate myself for not staying with him in the first place.

"Y/N, precious... Get out of your head and just take my hand.. Let me take you away for a little.." He said softly.

I took his hand gently and quicker than anything I was standing next to him, back in the castle. I thought he would never come back, I thought this wouldn't happen again. I started getting emotional again thinking that he came to me to help me.

"Y/N.. Stop.." He said sternly.

"Jareth..." I said softly.

"Falling Falling down Falling in love"

He walked over to me and placed his hand on the side of my face wiping the tear that was falling.

"My darling, how could he have done this to you." He stated softly resting his forehead against mine.

"It's my fault.." I trailed off and looked down.

"Y/N.. don't start that.. you know it's not true." Jareth said.

"He knew I was weak so he knew how to make me crumble." I said softly.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold I'll spin you Valentine evenings Though we're strangers 'til now, We're choosing the path Between the stars I'll leave my love Between the stars"

"He belittled you so much before but you fought through that. He made you feel weak and made you cry countless of times before this. You fought so much for him and he played you." He said softly.

"I just wanted things to work out." I gasped out trying not to cry.

"Precious, you don't have to hide anything from me. I can read how your feeling just by looking at you." Jareth replied pulling me closer to him.

"Thank you for saving me when I couldn't save myself." I said softly.

"Y/N, stay with me.. I'll protect you and love you like nobody can." Said Jareth.

"As the pain sweeps through, Makes no sense for you Every thrill is gone Wasn't too much fun at all, But I'll be there for you-ou-ou As the world falls down"

I nodded as I finally broke down crying, collapsing against him not feeling strong anymore. He picked me up and carried me to his throne and placed me in his lap. He held me against him, putting a finger under my chin making me look up at him.

"I move the stars for no one expect for you my darling." He said softly as he moved closer and pressed his lips to mine softly. Softer than I've ever been kissed before. I wrap my arm around his neck gently, kissing him back slowly.

"Falling As the world falls down Falling As the world falls down Falling Falling Falling Falling in love As the world falls down, falling Falling Falling Falling in love"

"I love you Jareth, I should of never left the first time." I stated quietly.

"I forgave you so long ago, you are mine now Y/N and only mine. I love you too Precious." Jareth replied pulling me back to kiss him again. He picked me up once again and he carried me to his bedroom. I knew I was home now and home is where I will stay.

"As the world falls down, falling Falling Falling Makes no sense at all Makes no sense to fall Falling As the world falls down Falling Falling Falling in love As the world falls down Falling Falling Falling in love Falling in love Falling in love Falling in love Falling in love"

The End!

[earthstellar]

INTERVIEW: Transformers lore and characters as discussed with my 74 year old mother

Backstory: I talk about fandom stuff a lot with my mom (she’s one of the original Star Trek fangirls so she knows her fandom shit lmao) and recently I’ve been discussing Transformers with her. 

Me and my mom are very open with each other, and we have some interesting fandom conversations. 

Here are some lines from a recent call with her that I thought might be interesting, regarding Transformers stuff and especially some interesting elderly person perspective on Ratchet. There’s also some talk of the theology in Transformers lore, including Drift and Spectralism, and a bunch of other stuff too.

All conversations transcribed from a recent Skype call, with my mom’s permission.

M is my mom, Me is just me-- So that you can tell who’s talking, lol. When other real people are mentioned, their names are redacted and replaced with an X for privacy. 

Getting Started:

Me: Okay, there are a lot of younger fans for Transformers who might be interested in this kind of discussion, but I don’t see a lot of these conversations saved and shared anywhere, so if you don't mind I want to share some of your reactions to learning about Transformers stuff. 

M: That’s okay, very professional of you to ask! The internet is a job now, I guess. I’m being interviewed, fancy. 

On Ratchet’s Age/Health and older people in media:

Me: Ratchet’s the medic, he’s an old guy. Older than a lot of the other bots. In the comics (MTMTE/LL) he has a chronic illness and he eventually passes away from either that or complications related to it, although we don’t see it happen on the page. It made everyone sad; He’s a fan favourite. 

M: I know how that feels, getting old and dying! I had years of thyroid symptoms before they had to take it out, I had endometriosis and they told me I couldn't have you, it’s an unsure thing. Now I’ve had skin cancers removed, I have too much potassium in my blood, I have fibromyalgia. I never expected to live this long. 

Everyone is really just guessing at health stuff. It’s ironic that the doctor couldn’t diagnose himself, but I think he probably knew what was wrong and couldn't bring himself to accept it. Old people might accept that we can’t do some things any more but we tend to be depressed about it. Nobody really copes with it very well, you know X had a stroke and now she’s aphasic, can’t speak anymore, can’t read anymore, and she used to be a nurse. She’s older than I am, but it’s sad. She’s so smart and clever, and we’re just old. It’s what happens. 

I bet Ratchet was scared. As a doctor, he’d know what can happen when you get old and decrepit. I think he was in denial, a lot of old guys seem to be like that. 

Me: He was the medical lead on their ship, the Lost Light. I think you’re right and he wanted to be functional for as long as possible; He wants to be helpful and his job is his life. It would be hard for him; He struggles with retirement in the comics. 

M: Sounds about right. I’m old as hell and I still work! Although that’s mostly because we all need money to live, and not so much because anybody wants to have a job at this age, but still. If he liked his job, he wouldn’t want to be pushed out. I loved working at the park; When I had to quit, it was devastating, but I didn’t really have a choice. 

By the way, the audiobooks you sent me for X have really made her happy, she can read again, sort of! So thanks for that.

Me: I’m glad the audiobooks I sent you helped!

M: They have, you’re a life saver! 

Me: I’m just glad they’re useful for her! 

I think it’s interesting that his age is a part of his character in terms of personality and story arc; Do you enjoy seeing older characters in media that reflect the realities of age and being old, even when it’s difficult or possibly depressing? 

M: Yes! There aren’t a lot of old characters, and the ones that are out there are mostly just joke characters or you never see them too often. I think the creators must think that old people don’t watch TV or anything, but the reason we don’t tune in is because everything is all about young people, and that can be hard. Watching people run around when you can’t anymore can be painful for those of us who have lost that ability now that we’re elderly, or watching kid-focused stuff can make us miss our families. 

It would be nice to see old characters that are included and are competent. 

Me: Representation is important. 

M: Yes. 

On Religion in Transformers: 

Me: So, you work in a church. Just pointing it out so readers know where we’re coming from on this. 

M: Yep, Episcopalian on the beach here, a small church. Services are mostly online due to COVID so I’ve lost hours on Friday, unfortunately... But I’m not complaining. 

Me: And we both like the more spiritual lore type of content, it’s some good shit. 

M: Always love seeing ancient Gods in space! 

Me: So, there’s another old guy character, Alpha Trion, who’s a kind of sage-like mentor to Optimus Prime. 

M: Optimus! He’s the truck! Everyone knows him, he’s the main guy. 

Me: Yep! So Alpha Trion is an archivist, and when Optimus Prime was younger, depending on what version of the story we look at, he also used to be an archivist. 

M: Librarian truck! 

Me: Yes! 

M: I love it. You worked at a library for a little bit. 

Me: That work placement was the best, loved it. But Alpha Trion, depending on which version of the lore we look at, is hinted to be one of the formative deity-entities on their home planet, Cybertron. 

M: Cybertroooooon. Haha! Good robot planet name. I’m into this so far, very cool.

Me: It is! And Alpha Trion is sort of the living memory of the early days of their planet and civilisation, but nobody knows. Everyone just thinks he’s a kind of cryptic weird old guy. 

M: Relatable. I like this concept.

Me: It’s pretty good. So generally, things vary a lot from version to version of the story, but there are usually a handful of beings, early Transformers, who make up the character of their ancient lore. These are called the Primes, named after Primus, who pretty much always is depicted as their main God. Like Zeus, or Odin. 

M: Very cool. Optimus is a Prime! 

Me: Right! In a few versions of the story, he is the final Prime essentially reincarnated. The Thirteenth Prime. 

M: That’s very cool. 

Me: And in some other stories, Prime is mostly purely a title that has political connotations as well; It gets into a sort of weird Divine Right kind of area to help underscore some of the problems in their planetary political structure that led to the conflict that eventually became their civil war. 

M: That sucks, but unfortunately, also relatable. It’s very real world, especially right now. It’s interesting how Transformers is so incredibly in depth; I never would have guessed from the cartoon ads that were on TV when you were little. 

Me: Yeah, they seem to hide a lot of the lore, which is a shame. The comics are more adult than most of the TV shows, I think you’d like them. 

M: Sounds like it. I love the spiritual robot stuff. 

Me: In the comics, there is a religious practice called Spectralism that you might really like. They see auras by filtering different light wave bandwidths through their optics in order to detect mood, and all the colours have meanings assigned to them. They change their paint colours in accordance with those colour meanings as well, on some occasions. Meditation is part of the practice. One of the transformers, Drift, had at least one vision; It’s hinted there might be more to Spectralism, but we don’t see all that much of it in any further detail, unfortunately. They also believe in Primus as a deity. 

M: It’s a shame they don’t elaborate more on it. It sounds very cool, like the stuff we were doing in the sixties and seventies. I bet Drift has some black light posters in his room, we had tons of them. Loved the velvet ones. 

Me: He does have an altar, I think. Or a least a prayer area, it’s mentioned he meditates fairly frequently, from what I remember. 

M: (Starts singing Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple) That was the best, put some tunes on... Good driving music, too! 

On Femme Transformers and Sexism in Sci-Fi: 

Me: So there are some lady Transformers, too! 

M: Ooh! 

Me: There’s Arcee, who is the pink one you probably remember from the ads or the cartoons, and in the comics she’s officially transgender. 

M: Excellent! Trans-formers. Good. 

Me: Yes! And there’s not just her, there’s Nautica and Velocity in the comics as well, plus Elita-One... (I showed her pictures of each.) 

M: I like Velocity. I love the teal, the Thunderbird on the back is excellent. 

Me: I like Velocity, too. 

M: Elita has the head cones, not sure how I feel about that. She’s also pink, it’s hard to keep track of them all. I like Arcee, she has the Princess Leia hair helmet! 

Me: I figured you’d like that. It’s pretty good. 

M: I like Arcee and Velocity the best so far. 

Me: There’s quite a few female or femme transformers now. There didn't used to be, and there were some mistakes made here and there, but nowadays there’s a much wider cast. 

M: That’s good, I’m surprised, but in a good way. There were never women main characters in sci-fi stuff when I was a kid, it’s why Star Trek was such a big deal, and even then, it wasn’t all that great. There was Uhura, Nurse Chapel, but there were a lot of weird episodes...

Me: I love the Romulan Commander, though. 

M: She was the best! Wished we got to see her more. 

Me: Me too. But in Transformers, they’re doing a good job with the female coded characters, as least as far as I’ve seen.

M: That’s good to know. I’m glad that exists for girls who want to play Transformers, too. It always seemed like such a macho thing, the way they advertised it. 

Me: Yeah, that’s still a problem to some degree, but I remember it being way more aggressively worse in the 80s/90s. 

M: It was worse in the 50s when I was a kid! Cooking sets were the girl toy. They made Star Trek for boys, but when all the girls ended up being the main demographic that watched it, they cancelled it. It was Lucy from I Love Lucy who brought it back, I remember you told me that! 

Me: Yep!

M: I’m glad little girls have Arcee. And little boys. They’re robots, they don’t have gender! 

Me: Exactly! 

--

If this kind of interview/conversation excerpt type thing is interesting to anyone, we’re happy to keep doing it! 

Give me questions or things to ask my mom, she’s happy to give you some “old lady perspective”, lmao. ❤️ 

[allet-art]

                        Wherever you go, you’ll be there

                          Steven Universe Future fanfiction: Chapter 1

Summary:

Steven's journey into the unknown, into who he is, and how to learn to live again, with a spice of nightmares, feelings and a lot of travelling, learning from his mistakes and from people he meets.

Who will he find in himself at the end?

(Post IAMM and disregarding the last episode, Future)

Characters: Steven Universe, Connie Maheshwaren, Connie is not focused on, The gems of LH as background, the Off-Colors as background

Warnings: Nightmares, Depressive tendencies

Relationships: Steven Universe & Connie Maheswaren

Tags: Tags to be added as story progresses so watch out for those, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Coping, Coping mechanisms, Trauma, Steven learns to live, This is just my “SU ended and now I am empty inside so here’s my continuation, OCs I guess but only to serve the story, Mommy Issues, Therapy, Steven gets therapy, Nightmares, Categories may be subject to change, Warnings may be subject to change, I have an idea for what’s in the chest just wait and see

Read on AO3

-------------------------------------------------

He plummets. Loosing the ground under his feet, feeling the loss of pressure in a rush of cold and terror. He doesn’t remember landing on the ground, but he’s up. Something is there.

He turns around to see a creature, spider legs and massive fangs and the body of a snake, eyes black with pink irises, glowing. Fixating him.

He runs, feeling clumsy and heavy and weak, not fast enough, pushing against a force trying to stop him, trying to hold him back. He pants, the air burning in his lungs, forcing his limbs to move while fear tries to paralyze him to stop.

The creature is fast, faster than him. He runs, still, even though it’s pointless. Faster. Faster. He’s not fast enough. He’s too weak, too slow, too clumsy, nonono-!

He trips on the darkness. The fangs rise, and with a start, come down on his naval.

He jolts upright with a start, breathing, panting heavily. One hand over his gem and the other clutching his chest, he heaves in the air, staring at the blanket in front of him until he calms down a bit.

He glances over at his clock. 4:15 AM. Another nightmare.

He lets out a huge breath and falls backwards onto the bed. It’s comfortable, but that doesn’t stop him from looking to stare at the ceiling through sore eyes, opening them just a bit. Keeping them open is hard, but something desperately keeps him from closing them.

The ocean waves quietly crash onto the beach. A rough breeze presses onto the face of the house facing the water, making it creak ever so quietly. It was a familiar sound, one he grew up with. He breathes in, and heaves the breath back out as if he’d run a marathon.

Familiar. The sound of the water fills his ears like static white noise, threatening to make him forget what his nightmare was about in the first place. Does he even want to remember? Maybe he should just let go, and fall back into habit. His mind is blank, and he starts moving on his own.

He shuts off his alarm. No need for that anymore. He takes the steps down quietly, making sure to pace his steps just right to avoid the steps from creaking. From the room, to the ocean, to the creaking, to the hushed way he moves between the furniture; It’s like moving from one island to another, one concept connected to the next, each action familiar. Nothing he can mess up here if he does what he’s always done.

Mechanically, he starts making himself a protein shake. Connie’s been telling him to get better breakfast, but he feels too tired to do anything else. Well, he doesn’t have to tell her. He looks out to the sky through the large glass windows where the stars peacefully await the break of dawn. He feels tired, worn out and at the same time like a cold stone statue that has nothing better to do.

What’s the point, anyway? His shake finishes fizzling, and he screws the lid closed, starting to shake the plastic bottle. The sound echoes through the room in a surreal manner, making him question if he really is awake all of a sudden. He blinks the thought away. No, he’s sure he’s awake. Just tired.

He sits alone at the table and sips the tasteless protein shake, feeling the powder on his tongue. The stars look back. An eerie quiet hangs in the room, and a small flash of white light at the edge of his vision makes Steven blink. He feels himself sunk into the chair, shoulders hunched. Nothing. The room is empty. He’s alone, accompanied only by the crashing of waves, his sore eyes and the disgusting taste of the protein shake.

How sad this is, he thinks. Steven Universe the savior, sitting in his living room at 4 AM, sipping a drink he hates while waiting for morning to come. 

Suddenly he sees the bright light again. A butterfly. He stops in his movements, and forces himself to breathe. He’s hallucinating. The butterfly lands on one of the chairbacks calmly, waving it’s wings at him. He stares at it, and it flutters off, dissapearing by flying through the closed windows and turning into one of the distant stars.

He stares after it for another moment, blinking, trying to see if he sees any more of them. Nothing. Moments, minutes pass before he calms down, picking the bottle up again to continue what he was doing like nothing happened.

He sighs, placing the plastic bottle down and staring into the mix of liquid. He feels sick. He looks over the fridge to think of getting something else, and sees the small glowing bracelet that he’d stuck to the side of the fridge not too long ago. 

His thoughts wander, from the bracelet to Connie to the hospital. Connie was with him in that underwater bubble he’d made. He didn’t remember everything, but he felt it was his fault, anyway. But humans don’t swell up when they feel bad, at least not like he does. Was Connie okay, though? Did she ever live past that? Did she speak to her mother about it? Did she get therapy?

Maybe he should have known about that, too. Shouldn’t he have been the one to bring her to her mother, or to some hospital or therapist after all that? He feels if maybe, he had payed better attention, he could have helped her better. Helped her the way she’s helping him now, to somehow make up for all the senseless trouble she has to go through.

He grips the plastic bottle tighter, feeling his shoulders hunch up. If he’d just left her out of all this. If he’d just been smarter, been… better. If he’d just been kinder, like- like she was. Rose.

No matter how he looks at her, the childhood dream of the perfect light holding everyone together, inspiring everyone, taking care of everyone still sits somewhere in his mind. A distant vision of that pale pink and white color, but, she wanted him here. ...right?

Did she really? He looks out to the stars. If she could see him right now, what would she think?

He feels pain sting his chest. The sore spot isn’t made better by the pathetic sight he feels he must be right now, sitting alone in the dark, reminiscing about everything that’s happened so long ago.

But it feels so real. It feels so present. It feels just like yesterday. It feels like there was something to live by and live for then, and now there’s nothing. A blankness of the present and the future. Something that almost makes him wish he could go back, back to when everything made sense.

He places his elbows on the table, shoving the drink aside. Some of the liquid splashes over onto the table, and he feels as if he’d been kicked in the gut. Great going, Universe. Can’t even keep the kitchen clean for five minutes. He buries his face in his hands.

The silence, the cold tugging at his bare arms, making him feel weak and fragile, the fact that nobody was going to come here in the next five hours at least were rising, building up in his throat. That’s what hurt, really. Nobody is going to come here anytime soon. He stares at one of the walls, and suddenly he feels tiny. Helpless. Stuck, waiting for that stupid warp pad to glow and tell him someone would still care if he’d dissapear.

But right now nobody does. He sobs, shoulders hunching further, hands pressed to his face. The silence continues to stand in the room and watch him. He sobs, the same way he did just a week ago after he’d turned back to normal. In that freeing, loud way that he’d never allowed himself to do before that moment. 

He wants to feel better. He desperately wants to feel something else, even if it means crying loudly and ugly, and if somebody were to see him they’d feel pity and they’d probably be right to feel sorry for the teenager sitting alone in the dark and breaking down over nothing.

He cries, until the soft morning sun starts to peak over the horizon and send light his way, letting the stars fade back into the ethereal space they came from. And when the house was filled with light and birds started to bring bright chirps into the atmosphere, he sat there still, shoulders hunched over and eyes red and puffy. 

He stood up, at some point, fingers and toes cold, pouring the rest of his shake down the sink and tossing the bottle onto the counter. The plastic clunked against the stone surface in protest, and bounced down to the floor and onto the wood planks, but he’d already started walking towards the stairs. He shoves his hands into his pockets. He has to go get his face washed, before the gems come in.

---

Soft, October sun warms this side of the beach. Connie sits next to him, sipping a milkshake, eyes focused intently on the task trying to get the last few drops out of the plastic cup. Steven sits with his shoulders hunched over, his drink half full, listening to the shake give gurgles of protest. She looks up to him and they both snort, looking away again.

The ocean waves roll onto the beach. Steven’s smile fades, unsure what to say or think. He looks out to the horizon, watches the light glitter on the surface of the water. Everything is like it was before. Except him. 

He feels like a sore thumb, out of place as he forces a smile back at Connie, who said something about the bakery that he didn’t quite catch. He feels hollow, like something is missing from his chest. He gulps. He spent the morning in bed, tightly hugging his blankets like they could replace someone else. It didn’t help.

Connie says his name, and he turns back to her. She gives him a questioning look, but he just shrugs. 

“Jus’ tired,” he murmurs. 

“You sure?”

He shrugs again, not knowing what to respond with. The ocean waves keep crashing into the beach. Connie puts the plastic cup down next to her. They sit in silence. 

“Well… I’ll come visit next week, maybe.”

“I thought you could only do once every two weeks?”

“I know, I know. But maybe I can shift tutoring to earlier in the morning.”

“Connie...” His voice is tired, doing his best to sound hopeful, to sound stable. “You don’t have to do that. You told me, once every two weeks, and I don’t want you to go back on that.” His voice grows quiet, hoarse. “...and make yourself miserable.”

“I won’t, I…” She trails off, her smile fading. “It’s a lot, but I’m sure I can do it.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

She sits with her arms stemmed on the bench, and one hand goes to hold her elbow. Sitting cross-legged, her top foot bounces up and down unsurely. Steven lets his glance wander back to the ocean, to the constant crash of the waves.

He closes his eyes, the salty scent of the ocean filling his senses. He’s just a burden here, again. But he knows that as long as he’s here, she’s going to be worried, and she’s going to keep visiting because he doesn’t know how to feel okay anymore.

He opens his eyes, looking to the horizon. “Once every two weeks will be fine, Connie. Don’t forget about yourself, okay?”

She opens her mouth, wants to say something, knows that there’s more to it than just this, knows that something is off because he won’t even look at her. 

But she doesn’t know what to say. She looks down onto her knees, her smile fading too. “Okay.”

He wants to fix this, this horrible silence settling between them. He doesn’t know if he can. At the same time, his longing look into the distance makes him wish he was anywhere else, anywhere but here, having to sit out this silence, having to do things different with no way to tell what’s right and what’s wrong.

His hands clench into fists, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It just hurts. His shoulders hunch more.

Connie watches him, not knowing what to do. Maybe her mother would know. Maybe there’s nothing she can do.

As the waves crash, the seagulls call and the clouds pass, they both watch the sun set in silence. 

---

Empty.

He walks around the house, up the stairs to his room, down to the kitchen. Empty. Like he’s missing something, and he has no idea what it is.

He plops down onto the couch eventually, groaning in frustration. Maybe it’s too quiet. Or he’s just lonely. Or futureless, or feeling guilty, or any other of the dozen reasons he can think of.

Sighing, he gets up to pace back and forth a few steps. He should probably do something, but nothing useful or particularly healing comes to mind. He stops and closes his eyes. If he were anywhere else, anywhere but here in this empty house trying to pick up the broken pieces of his life, it would be easier.

He looks out to the window, out beyond the horizon. He found his mind wandering more often, away from the million things he needs to fix and take care of or remember not to fix and not to take care of, all on top of changing his habits and whatever else he feels he still needs to do. 

If he were anyone else, anywhere else, if he had to deal with anybody’s problems other than his own. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? He has to deal with his own. He has to change, and abandon old habits. Just without actually helping anybody less.

The warp pad goes off. He jumps up, smile on his face, hands moving to do something, pretend to have been doing the dishes, anything to make it look like he had been involved in something useful. Pearl steps off the warp pad, humming something. She has a rusted old sword with her, but she’s holding it as if it’s made of gold.

The gears in his head start to turn and fall into place. That must be from the battlefield. That’s good. His eyes go over her, taking in both relaxedness and happiness and the faint smile of nostalgia on Pearl’s features. That’s also a good sign.

“Hey, Pearl. Is that from the battlefield?”

“Oh, Steven! Yes, I decided, well, I finally had it in me to bring it back.” She eyes the sword in her nimble fingers before shifting her focus. “But how have you been holding up, Steven?”

Finally had it in her? What was stopping her before? He doesn’t recognize the sword. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” Was it a memory he hadn’t heard of yet? About his mother, or about some other gem? Was now the right time to ask? “Who’s sword is it?” He hopes present tense is right.

“This old thing? Oh, Bismuth made it for me thousands of years ago. It was the first thing that was ever truly mine.” She sighs, a distant sadness in her voice. “I lost it during a battle with quartz guards where the delta kindergarden was supposed to go.”

Right, that made sense. Steven can imagine what it must have felt like, loosing the first thing she owned during a fight after she swore to protect Rose and went after her new purpose. She must’ve felt like she failed.

“Well, there’s no delta kindergarden, so looks like you guys still won, right?”

A cheerfulness comes to her features and she smiles, an excitement in her voice that Steven rarely got to see. “We did! We beat those quartz guards right back to the warp pad in the end.” She held the sword into the air proudly.

Steven’s heart swells with warmth at seeing her so expressive, so much louder and prouder than usual.

Pearl’s gem gives a hum, and she stops for a moment to pull her phone out of her gem. “Oh! I’ll be late to my weaponry class.” She starts to head for the door, putting the sword away in her gem.

Before the door closes, she stops and looks back. “Steven?”

“Yeah?”

“I know I say this often, but, you can always talk to us, okay?”

Right. It hadn’t been long enough for the gems to forget about what happened.

He looks down into the sink. “I know. Thanks, Pearl.”

His smile fades as the door closes shut and he sighs.

He groans into his hands. Old habits die hard. How is he ever going to do that any differently? What could he have even done? If he told her about how his day and last night had gone, she wouldn’t have opened up about the sword. It’s not like she could fix any of it.

As the silence drags on, so does the emptiness, and so does the hollow feeling in his chest. 

---

Lars and the off-colors are due to visit today. 

Steven steps out of the shower, feeling refreshed after spending far too long at home and in the same clothes. He puts on the same shirt, his trusty jacket, and walks to the warp pad.

He stops right before it, contemplating. He checks the time. He’ll be too early, and he doesn’t want to come off as desperate. Not like last time. He cringes a little and goes outside to take the car.

Besides that, the alone time in the car seemed to do him good. Or maybe it was the distraction of driving, or the distant memory of car rides with his father, the endless landscape passing by the windows as the road gently rocked him to sleep as a kid.

The road there felt too short for the car, but at least he wasn’t too early. The small spaceport of LH had to reserve quite the area for Lars’ ship to land, and a handful of gems were already waiting. So he won’t be the only one. Good.

He saw Larimar, Snowflake Obsidian and one of the jaspers from funland that he hadn’t properly met yet.

They turn to him when he approaches, all excited smiles and shy glances, and he smiles back and greets them, remembers to ask Snowflake how the trip to the siberian research station went and gets the nickname of the jasper, Lacely.

A faint humm turns their attention upwards, a familiar ship entering the atmosphere, gently parting the clouds and touching down in front of them.

Steven wanted to rush in, but remembered to wait a moment to let Lars and his crew step out and be embraced by the other gems around him first. He spots Larimar and Padparadsha getting along better than he thought. Snowflake gives Rhodonite a playful shoulder punch, who returns it, making Snowflake pretend to be knocked over as they laugh. Only Lacely seems to stand somewhat lost, watching everything go down with wide eyes. Steven humms, ready to swoop in. He had a suspicion of what was going on.

“Hey, Lacely, have you met the off-colors yet?”

The gem stood shyly, her eyes covered and stance stiff. “Uh. Kindof.”

“How about I introduce you?”

Steven approaches Lars and Fluorite with the jasper, introducing them, watching the jasper blush as Fluorite compliments her hairstyle. Fluorite and Lacely go off to join Rhodonite as Fluorite insists on introducing them too, leaving Steven alone next to Lars.

Lars crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking down to the younger teenager. “Missed us?”

Steven shrugs a bit, trying to play it off and not look too emotional. “Yeah.”

Lars goes on, a bit more serious. “We heard about what happened.”

“Oh… yeah…” Steven’s mood drops, chewing the inside of his cheek briefly into the silence before he quickly goes on. “But it’s fine! Everything’s better now! Besides, your space adventures are bound to be much more interesting.”

Lars laughs, ruffling through Steven’s hair brotherly. “You’re still good ol’ Steven, huh? Always going on about everyone but you.”

“Hey!” Steven laughs as he moves his head away to get Lars’ hand out of his locks. “Just saying. Things have been as usual. Nothing special.”

The two almost-humans watch the other gems cluster together, standing side by side in silence for a moment. Steven glances over to see Lars smiling, happy to be home, happy to see his gem family getting along with others so well, happy to see them surrounded by people who appreciate them fully.

Lars isn’t one to draw in closely to social gatherings. What a contrast to what Steven had come to know at first, when all Lars seemed to care about was being friends with the cool kids, so that he could matter, so that he could feel like he belonged somewhere. And now that he knows where he belongs, he can contently lean against the ship with his hands in his jeans and smile into the october sun.

Steven’s smile falters a little as he looks over to the cluster of gems. He’s happy that his own close family has that too, of course he is. Pearl, Garnet and Amethyst becoming teachers all in their own way, helping gems find their new purposes, their new lives. Helping them in all the ways they wish someone would’ve helped them when they’d first arrived on earth. 

So Steven should be happy, right?

Everyone says he needs to change. Lars changed, and from Steven’s perspective, it all made sense. He changed for the better, with each step he took and choice he made, moving towards something brighter. But Steven doesn’t know how he would change. He does everything to make the people around him happy, and sometimes it’s just not good enough and leaves him feeling empty.

He glances over to Lars again, and then to the gems. How it must feel, to just be, to laugh and be yourself and nothing else, and fit in with others like puzzle pieces. To be ones self with no visible limits or edges that need to be trimmed. To just breathe and live and make the people around you happy by just... existing.

Something in his chest does swell happily, although not entirely enough to fix the hollow feeling. They’re all so happy, so unique, so… themselves. The paths they went, the choices they made lead them here, to this place, to this happiness, this new family.

He sighs, and Lars looks over to him. “What’s up?”

“It’s just, they’re all so happy, and, “ he takes a small break not to sound too emotional, “and great, you know? They came so far. You came so far.”

Lars gives a nervous laugh. “Steven, you sappy kid. You came pretty far too, y’know.”

Steven gives a small laugh, a smile, not letting the slightly sinking feeling in his stomach show. He turns back to the happy gathering and ignores the feeling.

The hollow feeling in his chest expands. He wants to be there. Closer, there, amidst the smiles and comments and jokes and gestures and happy eyes. Closer, so the feeling would be easier to ignore, so he could be easier drowned out by people much better adjusted than him.

But it feels clingy. They seem fine without him. He could ruin it. With the way he always used to be he can insert himself, or insert someone else, but he’s supposed to change. What if he changes and they all finally realize they’re better than him? If he could just exist and fit, he feels like he would have done that already.

“So Steven.” Lars looks down to him. “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, nothing much.”

“Hey, weird idea. But did you ever wanna come with us to space?”

“Well, you’re a pretty tightly knit family. I wouldn’t want to interfere.” Before Lars can cut in, Steven quickly goes on. “Besides! I can visit whenever, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s the journey! I dunno, I guess space just has a pretty good record at helping me.”

“That’s okay. I mean. I don’t know if it would do that for me.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “I guess I really like car rides.”

“You been doing a lot of those then?”

“Kindof.” Not really, he thought. From home to Beach City to LH and back.

Rhodonite walks up to Lars excitedly, bubbeling about Lars’ old pastry shop as she pulls him along. Steven waves them goodbye, saying something about needing to be somewhere at LH. The conversation feels blurry to him by the time he’s in his car.

He adjusts the rear view mirror, seeing his reflection. He looks tired, and without the large smile, sad. Lost. He yanks the mirror back into place, trying to forget his reflection as he drives back home.

---

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets VII

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing, name calling

•••

You could feel the sunlight on your eyelids, making everything behind your eyelids appear as a dark red. But almost as soon as the sun was on your eyes, it was gone. The side of your bed dipped down when weight was added to the mattress and a gentle hand was holding your shoulders, a familiar voice coaxing you awake. 

“Y/n. . . c’mon, wake up.”

Opening your eyes you could see Jonathan sitting next to you, Nancy next to him, looking down at you, holding a cardboard cup of coffee in her hands. 

“Wha?” You didn’t have enough energy to pronounce your ‘T’ in the word, knowing that they understood what you were trying to say while laying down in your bed, early in the morning with your hair sprawled out around your head. 

“Get up, c’mon. Get dressed.” Jonathan was being gentler than he had been the day before. Instead of barging in and making a ruckus while you were just waking up, he was being nice about it. 

“Why?” You asked, leaning more into the pillow underneath your head, pulling the duvet closer to your shoulder that were exposed to the cold air. 

Jonathan avoided the answer to the question. “I’ll explain in the car. C’mon, we got you coffee. Rise and shine.” With that he stood from the bed and you grumbled a bit at feeling the sunlight back on your face. The door to your room, wide open. 

Nancy placed the cup on the bedside table, and she stared for a moment at something on the table by the lamp. Something you didn’t have enough effort to even look at. 

You sat up, grabbing the coffee and taking an unsure sip, testing the dirty bean water to see how hot it was. 

“What’s this?” Nancy asked, picking up what she’d been looking at. You turned your head, feeling your knotted hair move across your bare shoulders. She held up your long dead phone, the black screen smudged with your finger prints and a bit of dried goo by the home button. 

It’s not that you couldn’t charge it, you had the charger for it. You supposed out of all of the moments you could have gone missing and end up in the past, you chose the right one, with all of your essentials being in your bag when you ran off. But charging your phone, only to see the photo your Uncle took of a place called Balboa Park in California, made you nervous. The thought of seeing photos in your camera roll of your family scared you. 

“That’s uh. . .” You struggled for a few seconds for words. “My phone.” You answered. 

“ There’s only one button.” Nancy observed. “Oh, sorry, four.” She corrected herself upon seeing the volume and power buttons. 

“Nancy, we don’t know how future technology works.” Jonathan told her, going to the open door and closing it, returning the room to the dim lighting you usually kept it in whenever you went to bed, or wanted to lay in bed and be depressed. 

Your attention turned to Jonathan as he turned back around and saw you staring at him. 

“I believe you. You left this at my house.” He said reaching into his bag and pulling out your sketchbook. With everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed you’d left it at the home when you’d left. But that meant he’d had it for since before the funeral. and hadn’t mentioned it. 

He flipped to a page where there were different doodles you and your Dad had done while eating pastries and drinking warm cafe beverages. He usually always got a coffee, you always got a hot cocoa when you went with him. It was tradition every Friday. 

“That’s not his DnD character. It’s one of his friends.” Jonathan pointed to one figure on the paper, that was colored in with crayon, because yes, you and your father still used crayons. 

“It’s Mike’s. He doesn’t know you, there’s no way you could know his character, so that means you’re not lying” Nancy spoke, placing the dead phone onto the bedside table again while you got out of bed, placing the coffee on the table, not caring that you were wearing a tank top and underwear, with no bra. 

“Y/n-” Jonathan started, only to get cut off by you.

“Why would I lie? What would the benefit be for me, huh?” You demanded, walking to the dresser, pulling out a pair of pale blue jeans and pulling them on over your underwear. “Oh, yeah, I’m Y/n Byers, haha, jk, jk, just fucking with you.” You said in a mocking voice, mostly to yourself as you zipped up the jeans and grabbed your belt. “As if I’m not gonna be talking about this shit in therapy ten years from now, in- oh wait, not my year, but rather fucking 1993! Mean Girls won’t even be out yet, the fucking IPhone won’t be invented yet! I’ll have to continue going to a fucking payphone every time I wanna call someone if I’m not here!” 

It was all getting on your nerves, it wasn’t very late in the morning, meaning they woke you up way before you were supposed to, and while the coffee would help, you didn’t appreciate them somehow finding the spare key you had to the room. 

“Oh, and I’m gonna have to keep saying Czechoslovakia instead of the Czech Republic and Slovakia because they won’t separate for another ten fucking years!” That was directed in Jonathan and Nancy’s way, and they both blinked in surprise, staring at you as though you’d lost your mind, and if a stranger had heard you, they would think you did. 

But Jonathan was the one who stuttered his way back into conversation. “Al- alright. . . Any-anything else?” He asked, holding the strap to his bag that was resting on his shoulder. 

“I have plenty of shit to complain about, Jonathan. I’m choosing to not start a fight right now.” 

Jonathan was stunned back into silence, watching as your demeanor was now that of a sad toddler. Your moods always fluctuated for about an hour or two after you’d woken up. Pulling the belt through your belt loops you reached into another drawer, pulling out a sweater and bra and walking to the bathroom. “Can’t even change in peace, in my own damn room.”

•••

“No! No, we’re not going off of a theory that this thing is like a Lion, Coyote, fucking Bear hybrid in behavior!” You yelled from the backseat, still holding the coffee. “It is 7:52 am, guys! I should be in bed, not yelling at you two for a stupid idea, a- a- a fucking hunch!”

Nancy turned in to face you from her seat, He blue eyes intense with determination as she stared at you. “If Will’s your dad, you want to find him, right?” 

“That’s not fair-”

“If you want to make sure you’re still born, this ‘hunch’ is all we have.” Nancy shot back, silencing you as you sunk into the carseat, holding the cup closer and taking a slow sip, intentionally making the annoying slurping noise, only to be disappointed and even more annoyed when Nancy turned away and faced the windshield again. 

“You’re both gonna get me killed.” You commented lazily, propping your feet up on the center console, continuing to drink your unflavored and unsweetened coffee, grimacing at the taste every time, but hoping and praying that you hadn’t built up a tolerance to caffeine. 

Jonathan pulled into a spot that wasn’t ‘technically’ a parking spot, and turned off the car, turning to face you like Nancy had. 

“Okay, do you- do you know of any way you could possibly get back to, you know. . . your time? I’m sorry what year?” 

You stared at Jonathan for a moment, because he had such a familiar face, and yet, he felt like a stranger. “I think I’d have to go back to that place. And although I really do love being able to say things other people understand, I think I’d rather live through history than go back there.” 

Your attitude changed, going from light-heartedly bitter about being woken up, and annoyed with their plan to get the monster that you called a Wendigo, to sad and down. Because it made it real. 

You’d never fall asleep in the back of the car listening to your Dad and Pa playfully argue and banter while your brother blasted his music so loud you could hear it with your own headphones on. 

Long days where you went to school, your brother’s orchestra performance, and then dinner would no longer be a thing. Your nights wouldn’t end with your Dad putting your music on for you. Because no matter how old you’d gotten, your Dad was still your Dad, and he’d always been there, even if it was for something as simple as turning your music on for you. 

Looking down at your lip you fought against the tears, refusing to cry in front of them. That was only something you did alone. 

“I’m gonna get some food.” You said quickly getting out of the car with your bag in hand. Jonathan followed suit.

“Y/n-”

“Stop.” Your voice shook as you looked at him. Holding the top of your backpack with a death grip, “You two go buy your fucking Sam and Dean Winchester bullshit, I’m gonna get something to eat. It is eight in the morning, on a Saturday! I am tired, I am hungry.” You told him. “So, I am going to go to the cafe down the street and get a muffin or a breakfast sandwich, and I will meet you back here!”

You didn’t mean to constantly be yelling at Jonathan, after all, he was one of your only uncles. But this wasn’t your uncle. He was just Jonathan Byers, whose brother was stuck in a dark and scary place, hiding like you had.

And you were just a kid. A teenage girl who didn’t know what to do. Who felt as if your world was crumbling all around you, pinning you to the ground so you couldn’t get up.

The only thing you could do right now to make anything around you seem even remotely okay, was to eat, try and pretend like you didn’t just choose your fate in the back of an old Ford while a sixteen year old version of your uncle stared at you. 

So you’d gone down the street, fighting against tears until you heard people talking, verging on hushed arguing. So you looked up and saw the movie theatre sign, the letters put into place to say ‘All the Right Moves’ but right after, red spray paint saying ‘Starring Nancy The Slut Wheeler’ 

You knew the hand writing, with Steve having once convinced you to look over Tommy’s English paper. You’d given up barely halfway in, the spelling getting on your nerves and the grammatical errors hurting your head a bit too much. You’d told him to go to one of the tutors in the library. 

Looking down the street a bit more you saw the culprits, Carol, Tommy, Nicole and of course Steve. 

There wasn’t a reason in the world for this. And although you’d never been in a relationship, you knew how a boy's mind worked. Especially a boy like Steve. Who was turning out to be the biggest asshole in disguise. 

The group of four slipped down into an alley, and as if on auto pilot, you followed them, now ignoring your original plan of getting something to eat.

“Steve!” You shouted when you finally reached the alleyway, watching as Tommy was taking a can of red spray paint from inside his jacket. Their attention turned to you as you made your way over the older male, who’s facial expression and body language was unreadable. “What the hell was that?” You demanded.

Tommy uncapped the can and stepped up a small set of stairs that only took him up off the ground about a foot, and started working on a cruel message on a piece of plywood. 

“Y/n, just go home.” Steve said firmly when you reached him. Shaking your head you stared up at him. You didn’t know why you were angry. You had no right to be. He wasn’t your problem, and your dads always told you to ignore men and boys like Steve Harrington. 

“Steve, just tell me what happened.” You urged. You shouldn’t be giving him a chance to explain himself, you could have just turned him and his friends in as the vandalizers of the theatre. You should’ve, because you should still be angry over Jonathan’s camera. 

“What does it matter?” He questioned while you grabbed the sleeve to his navy blue jacket. 

“It matters because that’s public humiliation, not only in general, but to the girl who I’m pretty sure you’re dating?”

Steve only huffed and pulled his arm away from you. “This is why it doesn’t matter. Cause see, you have this little soft spot Jonathan Byers, you’ll defend him no matter what I say.” He huffed, looking away from you and at the letters Tommy was writing with the spray paint. 

“Steve, that’s not fair. You were being a grade A cunt when you broke Jonathan’s camera, okay? And now? You’re acting like a little bitch. Your little feelings are hurt because of something Nancy did, so you’re gonna humiliate her? Stay classy, Harrington.” 

He turned his gaze back to you, glaring. Now his feelings were evident, he was angry and sad. And wouldn’t tell you why. 

“Hey, L/n, wanna know something that even my little sister knows?” Tommy asked, pausing for a brief second and looking down at you, a cigarette between his lips. You quirked up an eyebrow. “Little girls should be seen and not heard.” 

You scoffed a bit at Tommy’s comment, a bitter and fake grin coming across your face as you put your hands on your hips. “I wish I could say I’m surprised that you're a misogynistic piece of shit, but I’m not.” You looked back at Steve, taking a step back from the group. “God. Steve, I thought you could be a good person. But you’re the biggest asshole I’ve ever met”

You went to leave but the moment you turned around, you saw Nancy, close to angry tears as she walked down the alleyway to where you all were. You stood in place, not leaving her side, and not Jonathan’s either as he followed after Nancy. 

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol said with feigned happiness as Nancy finally reaches her spot in front of Steve. 

“Uh oh. She looks upset.” Tommy stated the obvious while you gave the couple space, leaning against a parked car and watching as Steve turned to face Nancy. As well as watching while Nancy raised a hand to slap him against the side of his face. The only causing you to flinch being the sound that the three other teens made in reaction to their friend being hit. 

You’d seen worse at school before. Having watched a fight go down where a kid tried to brace his fall after being pushed, and broke the bone in his forearm. You still got shivers whenever you remembered the large bump in his skin where the bone was presing gainst. 

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy inquired. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you. I can’t believe I was actually worried about you.” Steve’s voice trailed off at the end, being followed by a scoff, as if he was disappointed in himself. 

“What are you talking about?” It was clear that Nancy was just as clueless as you were as to what was going on with Steve’s sudden betrayal against Nancy. 

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you. You don’t want to be known as the lying slut do you?” If there was anyone at Hawkins High who you hated more than Tommy, It was Carol. 

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy hopped down from the top of the small set of stairs. “Hi.” He said with a smile, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and wrapping an arm around Carol. 

Turning you saw Jonathan coming closer, his presence finally being registered by the others. It finally clicked. And it seemed to click for nancy too. “You came by last night?” 

“Ding! Ding! Ding! Does she get a prize?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that.” Looking over to Jonathan he was holding out a hand for you to come over and take. You removed yourself from the situation and went over to your uncle, grabbing onto his sleeve. 

Because at times, he was just the face you knew as your uncle growing up, who bought you your first camera in fifth grade, and bought you lightroom and photoshop in sixth when you were thinking about going into photography in highschool. And right now, he was that familiar face, who could see how uncomfortable you were and was offering comfort. 

“What, you just let him into your room to. . .” Steve gave Jonathan a quick glance before looking back down at Nancy. “study?” 

“Or for another pervy photo session?” Tommy laughed, your grip on Jonathan’s sleeve tightening. 

“We were just-”

“You were just what?” You wished you could intervene, but you couldn’t. Because you didn’t know what happened last night after you left the Wheeler household. “Finish that sentence.” 

You looked up at Jonathan, and saw the way he was looking at the couple. And it slowly made you realize, that this was your aunt. You’d never called her ‘Aunt Nancy’ she was always just ‘Aunt Nan’ to you, and no one ever bothered to correct you. And maybe you were looking too much into things, but she did look very similar to your aunt. 

“Finish the sentence.” Steve challenged. 

Nancy just took deep breaths to stay calm, while you stood and watched as Steve shook his head at her response of choosing silence. “Go to hell, Nancy.” 

Jonathan stepped forward and grabbed onto Nancy’s arm and pulled her back a bit. “C’mon, Nancy. Let’s just go.” 

You went to turn around but Steve began to talk again. “You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed.” Jonathan and Nancy turned away, beginning to walk to the street again, with you following after until you saw Steve give Jonathan a harsh shove to the back of the shoulder. 

“I always took you for a queer, but I guess you’re just a little screw-up like your father. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah that house is full of screw-ups.” 

The words were getting to you. Because that was your family. Your grandmother, your asshole for a grandfather, and your uncle. And you’d never let words get to you, but these were striking you deep, and hard. But you didn’t turn away, you just kept taking steps like Nancy and Jonathan who tried to ignore the shoving, and Harrington’s cruel words. 

“You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised. An bunch of screw-ups in your family.”

“Steve, walk away.” You snapped turning to him while Nancy told Jonathan to leave it alone. 

“I mean, your mom. . . I’m not even surprised what happened to your brother-” 

You threw the first punch, your dominant hand balling itself into a fist and colliding with Steve’s nose. And the moment you heard the thud of bones cushioned by skin hitting each other, and the deep, yet dull and constant pain in your knuckles you knew you’d made a mistake, even if it felt satisfying to hit him. Because the moment you pulled back swearing and hissing at the pain in your fist, Jonathan had followed your lead. 

Jonathan’s punch had a bit more weight behind it, and made Steve grab onto a pole to regain balance. You started something, but you didn’t know what.

You screamed out at Steve to stop the moment that he tackled Jonathan to the car you’d leaned against, and so had Nancy. 

When Steve had pushed Jonathan onto his back and on the ground, you felt as if the pain was your own, your spine tensing up the moment you heard the thud. 

“Steve!” You yelled while Jonathan switched their positions, rolling them over so he had the better position to hit. You hated that Steve’s friends were encouraging it. Well, at least Tommy was. Carol and Nicole knew when things had to end. 

It happened fast, with barely any time to process it. All you knew was that Jonathan had Steve on the ground a second time, Steve’s face bloodied and already swelling and bruising when the cop car came. Nicole and Carol running off when Tommy told them too. All you knew was that Jonathan hit a cop, and Steve and Tommy ran.

•••

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers​​​​ @jxnehxpper​​​​ @yllwtaxi​​​​ @songofcosplay​​​​ @potatopooper05​ 

[picturetoburnnn]

Unforgettable | l.h. x reader

word count - 2k

warnings - angst, slight fluff, cussing as always

tags - @songforhema​ @asht0ns-world @lukesflaredpants @sunflowerxcal @cxddlyash @lovely-cruel-summer @merryblueberry02 @kinglyhood @caswinchester2000 @babe-babylon @irwinkitten @1delicate-fangirl @mysticalhood @abundant-stars 

notes - so i know an apology is past due here. i’m sorry about how late this is. part one was posted three months ago and i’m only now making this post. life has been insanely hectic, and i’ve been working on this for a while, but only a little bit at a time. i’m really sorry so much has happened recently. i hope you guys can enjoy this though. 

Masterlist

Part One Found Here!!

Y/N tried, she really did. She tried to cope with the fact that the love of her life couldn’t remember her.  But it followed her everywhere, like a shadow. An evil shadow with fangs and teeth waiting to remind her that she wasn’t who she used to be.

“Who are you?” The blonde asked, blue eyes shining with confusion. 

“Mate,” Ashton murmured, “it’s Y/N?”

“Who?”

Y/N fought her tears as she retracted her arms, wrapping them around herself even though she ached to hold the man in front of her.

“Don’t worry about it,” she muttered as she stood, turning on her heel. The broken-hearted girl headed for the door, refusing eye contact with anyone and everyone.

“Y/N,” Ashton called, reaching for her arm as she passed.

“Don’t,” she whimpered, dodging his grasp, trying her best not to cry until she was out of earshot. She heard her fiance ask the remaining boys to ‘please explain what the fuck is going on.’

Y/N managed to turn the corner into a relatively empty hallway before breaking down. The earth seemed to sway beneath her feet as the ground came crashing to meet her, back slamming into the wall. Hugging her knees to her chest, she did her best to silently cry. A muffled thud beside her indicated someone sitting with her. 

A hand found hers, intertwining the fingers. A brief glance at the forearm told her it was Ashton - the moon phase tattoos giving him away. Something about having him there with her made it all feel so much more real. Her fiance really was awake in the other room, and he really didn’t remember her. They sat there for a moment, Ashton being her silent crutch. Slowly, he moved close enough to tuck her into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and letting her cry into his chest.

“It’s like the past four years didn’t even happen.” Y/N wiped her eyes. “He doesn’t remember the dates, the proposal. Ash, he doesn’t remember me.”

“It’ll come back, bubs. It will.” His thumb stroked her shoulder comfortingly.

“You don’t know that.” She found herself laughing in spite of herself. “I could be gone forever. We don’t know. I sure as hell am not there now.” Another tear streamed down.

Ashton’s heart broke for the girl that had become his sister. Pressing a kiss to her head, he tried to hold back tears of his own as he felt her cling to him. 

After three weeks, nothing had changed. It was like he remembered everything except her. The past four years were there, but every memory that should have had her held a blank space in her place. 

Y/N had taken to staying at Ashton's, to save Luke the awkwardness of sharing a home with someone he didn't know. 

She didn't know the drummer heard her crying every night.

Y/N became a ghost to Luke. She disappeared when he came around, or stayed silent around him.

It was one of those days where Luke and the boys had gathered in the living room at Ashton's house, playing some random game in the living room. Despite Michael and Calum's protest - Why don't you play just one round with us? - Y/N had just curled up in the window seat with a book, dedicating herself to an afternoon of fiction. In her books, she could pretend the main character was her, and the love interest Luke. She could pretend everything was okay - that there hadn't been a huge rug ripped out from under her.

Caught up in the novel, she didn't notice the boy that used to love her taking a long glance her way. The plotline was too enticing to let her overhear the conversation the boys were having, the game forgotten in the background.

"Who was she, really?" Luke whispered.

"She was… she was your best friend, Luke. You were going to marry her." Michael's quiet words felt like knives in his heart. 

"But I- I would remember that. I couldn't forget that, could I?"

"Mate," Calum cut in comfortingly, "you were in a coma. You had brain damage. You can't control what you can and can't remember."

Luke had tuned him out. He knew he was obviously important to her, just based on her despair when he first - well, not first - met her in the hospital. He didn't know the first thing about her, but when she looked at him, such devastation on her features… he wanted to find some way to comfort her until all the pain disappeared. 

Cal was still talking when the tall blond stood, cutting him off. The trio of boys watched as he cautiously approached her, speechless.

Y/N felt a tap on her shoulder, drawing her out of her novel. She looked up, her eyes meeting those blue ones she loved so much.

"Hi." His voice was tentative. He hadn't sounded so unsure to her since their first date. But, to be fair, this was the first time he'd spoken to her since the hospital.

"Hello." Y/N closed her book, giving him her full attention. 

"Can, um, can we talk?" He gestured behind him to the back door. Clearly, this wasn't a conversation he wanted to be overheard. Not like that would stop their friends though.

"Yeah." Y/N almost stumbled over her words. "Yeah, let me put some shoes on."

Luke waited nervously by the door, fingers playing with the cuffs of his favorite jacket. Once she returned, with boots this time, he couldn't help but think she really was gorgeous. The cool winter air was a welcome change from the almost over-heated house. Or maybe it was their own anxieties that made the house feel uncomfortably warm. 

"I, um, I wanted to ask you something." The lanky Australian seemed to curve in on himself as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

Y/N raised her eyebrows as if to urge him to continue. 

"Who were you, to me? I know you were someone, someone important. Your face is in half of the pictures at my house, but I have no idea who you are." Luke wanted to know what she would tell him. Would she expect him to remember her as she was? Would she be willing to make new memories with him? 

She smiled at him, a sad smile that was masked to look nostalgic. She was good at that, but he was better. He didn't know how he knew that, but he somehow did. 

"Does it matter what I was? Shouldn't it matter who I'll be now?"

And suddenly Luke realized why he had been engaged to her. 

Luke smirked. "I guess so. Will you be the person to help me find memories of who you were?"

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, hands stuffed into the pockets of a hoodie that looked somewhat familiar to Luke. "Why don't we just make new memories of who I'll be?"

~

Luke could tell it hurt her. To look into his eyes, and not see what used to be there. But at the same time, it meant the world to him that she was here, helping him even if it hurt her. She came over most afternoons, most likely with one of the other boys tagging along. Y/N and Luke would carefully recall the tiny moments of the past four years.

It was slow, but Luke started remembering small things. He knew that Y/N liked this side of the bed, and she wanted her dresses and shirts hung up but skirts and pants folded. He remembered that when she couldn't find her keys, they were probably in the left pocket of the jacket she wore yesterday. 

He didn't know why, but when he wanted to surprise her with flowers, he somehow just knew that the orange ones wouldn't make her happy but the pale pink ones would. 

Y/N flashed him the world's largest smile when he remembered her brother's name for the first time, without prompting. She looked close to tears when he remembered their first date. 

Slowly, Luke fell back into his old life. He asked Y/N to come back home. 

"It's just that… this is your home too. Something about it feels empty, but when you're here, that feeling is gone. I know I may not be half the man you loved at one point, but would you stay here with me and help me get back?"

Y/N's heart was racing. Could she really handle this? Coming back home to this home she had loved so much, the place she had really and truly fell in love for the last time?

"Luke, I…"

His smile faltered. "You don't have to! It was just a thought, a dumb thought. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry I shouldn't have--"

"--I'd love to."

As fast as it fell, Luke's smile turned to a huge grin. "Really?" He asked like a kid on Christmas, not quite believing this gift was really for him.

Y/N nodded, and Luke's stomach erupted into a million butterflies.

~

"Tell me about the day we met."

Luke and Y/N were laying on the couch, a movie playing in the background with the volume turned way down low. Luke was half laying on her chest, and she had one hand playing with his curls. He was slotted between her legs, his back to her chest. 

"Hm?" she hummed.

"Like the first time we saw each other. Tell me what happened."

Y/N started smiling, as if to herself. She let out a quiet laugh. “You kinda embarrassed yourself. You sure you want to hear it?”

“Well, now I can’t very well have you knowing the dumb things I did and me not, can I?”

“Fine, fine,” Y/N relented.

“A little over four years ago, I was just walking down the street. Literally not doing anything else. Then you and your Australian accent quite literally ran into me.”

“Hey!” Y/N spluttered. A moment ago, she had been standing patiently on the sidewalk, waiting for the light to signal it was safe to cross the crosswalk. Now, her butt was flat on the ground, hands scraped, and the contents of her usually neat messenger bag were strewn all about the road. 

“God, Jesus, I am so sorry,” the collider exclaimed. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and-”

“Well that’s obvious,” Y/N grumbled as she stood, examining the abrasion to her forearm. 

“Here, let me get that for you.” The stranger bent down before she could say another word, and began picking up the random pencils, papers, and loose sticky notes that had gone flying. “I really am really sorry. Here, I’m so sorry,” he rambled as he handed her the items in a loose stack. 

“It’s fine,” Y/N smiled politely, shoving her belongings under her arm - she’d sort it later. “Thanks for picking it up, that was sweet of you.”

“Well, it was my fault they fell in the first place. I’m Luke.”

“Y/N.” She held her hand out to shake. 

Luke smiled. “Hey, same choker!” He gestured to his throat and then to hers, where she was indeed wearing the same black velvet strip. 

Y/N chuckled. “Guess you were just meant to run into me,” she teased lightly.

“Well maybe I’ll run into you again?”

Luke smiled as Y/N finished the story. As she spoke, he found himself remembering bits and pieces of it. He remembered the exact necklace they were both wearing, and berating himself as he picked up her things. He remembered thinking she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Or maybe that's what he was thinking now. He wasn't sure, but he still knew it was true.

Luke knew he had fallen in love with her all over again. 

[incorrectauroracyclequotes]

Collapsing and Coping

cw: canon character death mentions, swearing

All around her, the world is crumbling, she knows. And yet, none of that seems to be registering within her. Scarlett is in pieces, Tyler is trying desperately to hold himself together, Aurora, Kaliis and Finian all look as though they’ve gone into shock.

Zila is...well, she’s not sure what she is at the moment. She’s not happy, but she’s not sad, either. She’s not angry, but she’s not calm, either. She’s not broken, but she isn’t whole. And she’s not full, but she’s certainly not empty.

All around her, the world is crumbling, she knows. And yet, none of that seems to be registering within her.

Scarlett is in pieces, destroyed utterly and completely.

Tyler is trying desperately to hold himself together, although he’s just as broken as his sister.

Aurora, Kaliis and Finian all look as though the world has been pulled out from under their feet.

And Zila. Zila isn’t sure what she’s feeling. Around her, a conversation is taking place. She’s aware of it, but she isn’t paying attention.

“It’d take a miracle,” Tyler says, and that gets Zila’s attention. The crew is silent. Zila takes a deep breath. She isn’t good at emotions, but she’s going to damn well try. For Cat, for Tyler, for Scarlett, and for everyone else. For herself.

“Almost every particle in the universe was once a part of a star.” Her voice is soft, but in the silence, it feels deafening. “Every atom in your body. The metal in your chair, the oxygen in your lungs, the carbon in your bones. All those atoms were forged in a cosmic furnace over a million kilometres wide, billions of light-years from here. The confluence of events that led to this moment is so remote as to be almost impossible.” Zila’s hand finds itself on Tyler’s shoulder, and she shifts it around a little, unsure as to how to this specific touch works. “Our very existence is a miracle.”

Tyler looks up at her, and for the first time, she sees how truly shattered he is by the loss of Cat. “What are you saying?”

Zila meets his eye, determined not to look away. “I am reminding you of wisdom you have already shared with us.”

“And that is?” He asks.

“That sometimes you must have faith.”

And in that moment, Zila knows what she is feeling. The situation is hopeless, and yet she is hopeful. Cat is gone, and yet she is still here, in the way that Scarlett and Tyler and everyone else interacts. Zila is collapsing, but she is coping. 

[oswildin]

Bonded {Part Eight} - Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: You and the Master begin to get closer, the Bond growing stronger as The Doctor distances herself.

Warnings: Some fluffiness for ya’ll

You sat at the TARDIS doors, as you hung your legs over the ledge, letting them rest there as you looked out into space, seeing millions of stars and colours dancing in the night sky. You needed some space to think, some alone time. You looked out, your body and mind exhausted . The amount of information you’d taken in in the previous 24 hours had been a lot. You could feel another presence as you turned to see the Master, as he looked out at the stars.

“How you feeling?” He asked, tone soft as he decided to perch himself beside you. You shrugged.

“Tired.” You laughed lightly. “You find the Doc?” You asked as he shook his head. You sighed, you didn’t like it when she hid herself away. “This is going to kill her.” You whispered. “She adores Earth... And humans.” You paused. “I remember a boy.” You began as you narrowed your eyes, keeping your gaze ahead. “I saw him in my memory... I think he was my friend. I wonder what happened to him.” The Master thought for a moment as he smiled to himself slightly. “I don’t remember his name.” You tried to think back.

“Don’t push yourself. You’ve forgotten those memories for a reason.” He told you. “Minds... They are a complex thing.” He drifted off as you nodded at his words.

“How about you?” You cleared your throat, straightening out your top as you shifted in your seated position. “How are you coping?” He raised a brow, taking a side glance at you as he pursed his lips.

“Could be worse.” He shrugged. “I’m just angry.” He said as he sniffed. “Still, Gallifrey is no longer. They can’t harm anyone else.”

“Aren’t you sad?” You asked, brows furrowed. “I mean, you’re home... it’s gone.”

“It was never my home.” He argued, his tone more venomous. “The Doctor romanticised it, made it sound like a glorious, all-loving planet... But the truth is, it was poison.” You thought back a moment, going over your conversation once again.

“You said... I wasn’t the only one... And that that’s how we are Bonded.” You recalled. “What did you mean?” He sighed, looking down before turning to look at you. You looked into his eyes.

There was a knock at your door as you hesitantly went to it, opening it as you looked out to see a boy. You furrowed your brows in confusion as he opened his hand, revealing some bread in it as he offered it to you. You cautiously took it, unsure on why he had brought it to you. You felt your stomach rumble as you held it in your own hands. He gave you a small smile before walking away.

“You...” You gasped, looking in shock at the man. “It was you.” You realised as he gave you a small smile.

“You’re not the only one whose mind forgot some things.” He softly said as you continued to stare at him. “In my defence I am over 1000 years old.” He added, causing you to shake your head at him. “I can’t remember it all... But after seeing the images in your mind... A part of my own mind unlocked.”

“Small universe.” You joked as he smiled at your words. Silence fell between you both for a moment.

“They made me look into the Time Vortex.” He told you, looking back out into space. “It drove me mad... That’s when the drums started.” You listened to him, surprised he was opening up to you. “It was a mental link between me and Gallifrey. I would hear the sound of drums constantly... it was unbearable... They used me to break free of the Timelock during the Time War. Now they’re gone.” He raised his brows. “But sometimes... I can still hear them. In my head.” He tapped the side of his temple as you looked empathetically over at him. You reached out taking his hand as you comforted him. You didn’t know what to say, but you knew he probably appreciated the gesture.

“Look... whatever has happened... We’re still here.” You told him softly. “We won’t let this break us. We can’t.” He gave you a tiny smile as he felt warmth flood into his veins. You felt it too, but stronger than before... It was like something had changed. You felt a familiar feeling in your chest as you could feel your heart race increase in speed. You realised you were still holding his hand as you cleared your throat, muttering an apology as you let it go, the feeling leaving your bodies.

“For a human, you’re not so unbearable.” He commented as you scoffed slightly.

“Thanks.” You sarcastically said as you nudged him. “That’s the best compliment you could come up with?”

“It’s a start.” He argued. “Just be thankful I don’t hate you.” He narrowed his eyes, almost playfully as you saw mischief in them. You rolled your own.

“Could’ve fooled me.” You joked as you decided to get up as he followed your lead. You closed the doors as you headed back up to the console. “I think I’m going to head to bed.” You told him. “What will you do?” You asked as he shrugged.

“Probably find something to annoy the Doctor with.” He said casually. “Maybe I’ll move some things about, switch some wires around...” The TARDIS seemed to disagree with that idea as it groaned. You raised a brow.

“Don’t think she would appreciate that, and by she, I mean the TARDIS.” You nodded to the console as it hummed, agreeing with you as the Master rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Of course she likes you.” He grumbled.

“Who wouldn’t?” You teased as he stared at you before you gave him a small smile. “Anyway... I’ll see you in a bit. Don’t cause too much trouble.”

“You’re not my babysitter.” He argued as you turned to walk up the steps.

“Hmm... doesn’t feel that way.” You called over your shoulder as you smirked to yourself. He watched you walk out the room as he sighed to himself. It felt natural with you. It was like he was home. He’d never had that feeling before. It scared him. He didn’t know what to do.

You sat on your bed as you couldn’t stop thinking about the Master. You’d never felt that way. You just felt warmth in your chest at the thought of him. What were you getting yourself into? You fell back onto your pillow as you sighed to yourself.

You were strapped to a chair, golden light surrounding you, as you felt fear shake through your body. You felt tears in your eyes as you tried to get out of the chair. It was happening again. Rassilon stepped out of the shadows as he looked down at you, his eyes dark as he watched you closely.

You startled awake, gasping as you felt tears burning your eyes as you felt your body shake with fear. You cried as you tried to calm yourself down. The Master had felt your sudden fear as he panicked, wondering what had happened. He quickly ran to your room, the TARDIS guiding him as he rushed in, opening the door without knocking as he saw your broken face. His hearts ached at your anguish, as he sighed to himself, walking over to you. You held your head in your hands as you felt your breathing go ragged. He knelt beside your bed as he reached out, trying to comfort you as you flinched slightly at his touch. He reassured you it was ok as he rubbed your back gently. You felt stupid. You didn’t want him to see you like this.

“Sorry, I-I’m sorry.” You muttered, as he furrowed his brows, shaking his head.

“Don’t be.” He told you as you reached out, pulling him close, holding onto him for dear life. He froze, unsure on what to do. He wasn’t the best at dealing with situations like this. He hesitantly put his arms around you, scared to break you if he held you too tight. You both didn’t speak as you continued to let out your emotions.

The Doctor appeared at your bedroom door, the TARDIS warning her of something wrong. She instantly worried for you, rushing to your room as she looked in, seeing you and the Master holding each other. She had a small smile on her lips as she glanced away, stepping away from the door as she closed it gently behind her.

You didn’t remember falling asleep as you opened your eyes, reminders of what happened fresh in your mind. You jolted up as you felt a presence in the room. You looked over to see the Master sat in the corner of the room, reading a book as you sighed in relief, seeing it was him and not any danger. You furrowed your brows.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused as to why he was still there.

“Reading.” He commented as you went to roll your eyes.

“I mean, what are you doing here? Did you sit there all night?” You asked.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you alone in the state you were in.” He looked up from his book as he peered over at you. You felt your heart flutter at the thought of him watching you, keeping an eye over you as you rested. You gave him a small smile.

“You didn’t have to stay.” You told him sincerely. “Sorry that I caused trouble.” You felt embarrassed as he sent you a look.

“You didn’t.” He told you. “I was getting bored anyway.” He shrugged casually as he put down the book.

“Thank you... for coming last night.” You said softly as he gave you a concerned glance.

“Nightmare?” He asked as you nodded. “I can help with that. If you’d like?” You furrowed your brows. He got up, walking over to your bed as he placed himself down on the edge. You nodded slightly as he reached out, placing his fingers on your temples like he did before. You closed your eyes as he roamed your mind once more. He eventually pulled away after a minute as you reopened your eyes. “There. You won’t have any more nightmares.” He told you. “But you won’t have any dreams either. I’ve blocked off that part of your subconscious.”

“Thanks.” You gratefully said as you gave him a small smile.

“I’m going to go find the Doctor.” He told you as he got up, making his way to the door as he left. You sighed to yourself as you got up, not ready for what the day would throw at you.

~

Taglist: @drapetxmaniia @dannighost @imagine-whatever @yourlocalspacebisexual @the-sweet-space-bi @a--1--1--3 @blamerogertaylor @koschei-taylor @koschei-studies @lostshadow12 @hannahlilyyx @wonders-of-the-multiverse @ettorah @nikey-no-likey @imthedoctorlove @twentysomethingloser92 @startrekkingaroundasgard @sometimes-i-feel-like-falling @hellothedoctorisreal @tragic-and-tried @kind-sober-fullydressed @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[micahrodney]

Thread; Chapter 4 - Through The Looking Glass

The following is a commission for Matthew Caveat Zealot.   The morning of the memorial service was especially bitter and cold.  A slight drizzle had started which threatened to turn into lake-effect snow at a moment's notice. Kevin made his kids pack up everything just in case they couldn't make it back to the hotel, and the trunk had a fully stocked emergency kit. It was something of a Brown family tradition to prepare for the worst, but this quality had been more pronounced since the accident.  

“How's this?” Neil asked, fiddling with the knot on his tie.  

“I don't suppose you'd consider a clip-on?” Travis teased, moving in to correct the full-hearted but half-studied attempt at a Windsor knot.  

“Can't tie a tie, little bro,” Dawn said, waggling a mock judgmental finger. “They aren't teaching you anything at that school.”  

“You're just upset that I'm not in the psych ward,” Neil shot back, running a comb through his hair while Travis fiddled with his tie.  

“Injustice of the century,” she smirked.  

Kevin, Kim, and Rocky were already downstairs eating the continental breakfast and no doubt having “adult” conversation.  Travis was still in the kid's group but only by virtue of sharing a room with Neil.  Dawn had been dressed since 7 AM, but only because Kim woke her up by loudly dropping her make-up kit on the bathroom floor a half-hour prior.  

She looked quite nice in a simple black dress with matching leggings, though Neil wondered what their mother would have said about the heeled boots that she wore with them.  Combined with her unique hair coloration, the whole effect was very “Bride of Frankenstein”.  But then Dawn had always been avant-garde in her fashion sense.  

Travis was wearing a chocolate brown suit with a charcoal tie.  It didn't quite match but then Travis didn't own much in the way of suits.  Not that Neil could talk, he had only ever owned the black suit that his father bought for him for the funeral three years prior. Wearing it to every memorial service since probably did not help the mounting anxiety and grief.  It was as though a bubble was forming in the pit of his stomach that threatened to consume him the moment he let his guard down.  There was the choking sensation followed by the slight urge to vomit.

“There you go.  Dad will be proud,” Travis announced, completing the adjustment to Neil's tie.  

“Cool. Can you tell him I did it?” Neil joked, his stand-by for keeping the nerves in check.  

“If you think he'll believe it,” Travis replied with a weak chuckle.  

A moment followed, where the three youngest Brown children sat in uncomfortable silence. They knew what happened next and each was dealing with it in their own way.  Dawn was aloof as she always was, but she wasn't drowning her senses in her electronics. There was a stillness to her mind that was a precursor to the waves of emotion that would inevitably hit her around the halfway point of the service.  She had notably forgone mascara today, the easier to pretend she wasn't crying.  

Travis felt compelled to “big brother” more, and Neil's clumsiness with his tie was a perfect opportunity to let him express that.  He wanted to reclaim some of the control he felt he had lost in his life after their mother's death.  This was especially potent considering his past addictions. Travis had been balancing on a tightrope across a chasm of chaos for so long, and this day was the hardest one of the year for him.  

Neil was unsure how Kim was coping.  She was the oldest, he was the youngest and their age gap meant she had been out of the house for most of his life.  He had gained a portrait of his older sister in the family meetings and stories from Travis and their father.  Still, it was fascinating how incomplete these recountings were.  Humans were complicated but at least when you lived with somebody for a time you got to understand how they behaved. Without this context, everything else in their life was as shrouded in mystery as if they were a stranger, and carefully curated stories never did them justice. Sometimes it baffled him how little he really knew about somebody so close to him.  

As for Neil, jokes, pointed asides, flippancy: these were his allies.  It was not that he was going to try and avoid feeling sad.  The pain would come and he would fully experience it, making no attempt to hide his tears when the time came.  He just didn't want to cross the bridge yet. Things had to go according to a schedule.  If he could contain the emotion, then he was in control of his emotions.  Perhaps he and Travis were not so different.  

“So,” Travis said, breaking the silence.  “Breakfast?”

---

Saint Mary's was Colleen Brown's church as a child.  It was just a few blocks from the river and had a rich history to it, about which Colleen could recite paragraphs at a moment's notice.  It was founded in 1850 and much of the original foundation was still intact.  While clearly weathered, the chapel was remarkably beautiful.  

The centerpiece was, as always, Christ the Redeemer upon the cross just above the dais.  He was flanked by John the Baptist and St. Peter.  Further out on the walls adjacent to the stage were the Virgin Mother on the left and Joseph carrying a depiction of the baby Jesus on the right.  As far as Catholic churches went, it was a fairly humble affair.  There was just something inherently wholesome about the building which Neil found comforting.  

The only people in attendance at this quiet ceremony were the Brown family, Rocky, and a couple of Colleen's friends about whom Neil knew very little.  All in all, there were roughly ten people including the priest.  

Father Dwight McMahon was a person who Neil had come to know, at least somewhat. He was a family friend long before he took to the cloth.  Their mother had described him as an “inspiring young man”, though how they had initially met was unclear.  However both Kevin and Colleen had taken a liking to the young man as though he were a foster son, and he had often attended any family occasion of note, at least for the past six years. It seemed only right that he, having joined the clergy around the time Colleen passed away, preside over the ceremony.  

“Let us pray,” the Father began, as was his custom.  

The attending lowered their heads respectfully and clasped their hands together.  

“Most Holy and Gracious God.  We meet before your sight this day in remembrance of your daughter Colleen Angelica Brown, who departed three years ago.  We seek your guidance and comfort as we honor her memory and uphold the traditions of her family.  We thank you for your blessings and tender mercy, for surely you are the light and the way.  In humble gratitude, we pray.  May our lives please you, oh Lord.  Into your embrace, we offer ourselves. For what lies on the journey ahead, God only knows.  Amen.”  

Dawn swallowed hard. Travis's head was lowered.  Their father could barely keep his eyes open.  Kim was already openly weeping, and leaning on Rocky for support.  As for Neil, he just felt empty.  There was a pit where his heart should be.  It was the same as every year.  A horrible reminder of what he had lost.  Neil forced himself to look up at the Reverend, to try and connect with the man who had begun reading off the life story of his mother.

He let out an audible gasp, perhaps mistaken as a sob for how Travis put a consoling arm around him.  But it was not grief that overcame Neil, but terror.

McMahon had been wearing the standard black cassock, but now stood draped in off-color robes with a wide-brimmed hood.  In that instant, the nightmares he had forgotten about came screaming back into his mind.  The deep pit, the darkness, the pool of suffering, and the frozen temple in which gathered a black mass of robed skeletal figures.  

“We all want to go home,” McMahon said, his voice now hollow and raspy. “We can never go home.”  

“We just want to go home,” came a pale imitation of Dawn's voice from behind him.  

“End our suffering,” Travis uttered, his bony hand now clasping itself around the back of Neil's neck.  

Neil wanted to scream.  He wanted to react in some manner, but it was as though every joint in his body had locked up.  

“This is a nightmare,” Neil said to himself.  “I've fallen asleep and this is sleep paralysis. That's all it is.”  

Hail began to pelt against the windows of the chapel. A ferocious wind burst open the doors, wood crashing into brick with a loud crack.  

“You cannot go home,” came a stern and familiar voice.  “Because your home no longer exists.”  

At once, Neil stood up, suddenly free of the grasp of terror that had consumed him. He turned to the figure who now stood in the doorway; purple translucent lines containing a field of glowing stars.

“Rem,” he choked.  “Is that you?”  

“It is us,” Rem replied simply.  “The thread of this one is broken, difficult to follow.  But we have finally found you.  You must come with us. The Dreamer awaits.”

“Go where?” Neil asked, still processing the new reality. “I'm in the middle of my mother's memorial.”

“Are you?  You are here. Your body's location is ultimately irrelevant for our purposes,” Rem explained.  

“Am I... asleep?” Neil asked, desperate for more information.  

“Approximately,” Rem replied, his voice growing sterner.  “There are complications to that term, but it is perhaps the closest understanding you will grasp. At first.”  

“Go home,” the phantom priest bellowed.

“Want home!” screamed the nightmare Dawn.  

“Your thread is broken,” Rem explained again.  “But you still exist. Were you any different, you would be as they.  Lost in time and space, a shadow of your former self.”  

The shades moved closer to Rem, their movements foul mimicry. It was as though they were marionettes with a few cut strings.  

“Home!”

“Home!”

“We want to go home!”

Rem raised his hand.  “Your homes are no more.  You return to the Dreamer now.”

With a wave, the chapel and all of its inhabitants vanished.  The fabric of reality melted away, revealing a field of stars in which the two now floated. The great planet on which Neil had spent several eventful hours in the prior dreams was directly beneath them, as was the iridescent star.  

“You have seen this world as it once was.  I will show you what has become of those who once dwelt upon it.  Soon, you will understand, Neil Brown,” Rem announced.  

Without warning, Rem placed his hand on Neil's forehead, covering his eyes in bright pulsing light from the stars within.  His retinas burned, his head throbbed, and soon he felt nothing as the light overtook him.  

---

Neil shook himself awake and leaned forward, gasping in shock as the sleep paralysis wore off.  The dream had been especially vivid, and utterly horrible. But at last, it was over and Neil was in the safety of...

“Where the hell am I?” He exclaimed.

The young man was surrounded by stars, safely observed through translucent panes held in place by a silvery steel framework.  He had been lying on one of several identical beds, though he appeared to be the only occupant, each raised high off the ground the better to appreciate the cosmic light show.  The air was crisp and manufactured, the low hum of some alien technology thrummed somewhere beneath him.  

This was not a dream.  

“You are awake, Binder,” came Rem's rigid voice from just behind.  

Neil turned to greet the figure once more, though he noticed that his would-be savior was now wearing a silvery robe which seemed far more opaque than the rest of him. His footsteps were a musical chime on the metallic floor.

“What is this place?”  Neil asked, repeating his concern now that a supposedly sympathetic ear was present.

“We refer to it as The Cradle,” Rem explained. “Throne of the Dreamer and safe haven for the Somni.”

Neil tilted his head slightly.  “I mean... could you start from the beginning?”  

“Nox will give you a more thorough explanation.  I am to take this one to her,” Rem replied.  “Please accompany me.”  

Rem gestured towards the center of the room, where a railed circular platform hovered a foot or two off the ground.  Just above it was a tunnel through the ceiling which went up quite a ways.  The lift could hold perhaps three of these Somni at once, but Neil barely took up a tenth of the space.  

With a slight jolt, the lift began to rise.  Neil almost lost his footing at the sudden momentum but was able to steady himself.  After the initial shock, the rise was smooth and swift, rocketing the two of them up several hundred feet. The lift tunnel was illuminated by pure white rings of the light in even intervals.  The effect was almost hypnotic, not that Neil felt any desire to sleep.  

The lift finally reached its destination, placing the two of them on the rear wall of – there was no other term for it – a space station. The room was massive, at least ten times the circumference of the galactic dormitory they had just departed.  The silvery steel framework branched out around the room creating a dome-like structure, offering a mostly unobstructed view of the cosmos.  At ground level, a variety of holographic panels were erected, forming a semi-circle opposite the lift.  Indecipherable glyphs relayed incomprehensible data at lightning speed, observed by a host of these Somni.  

In the dead center of the room was one particularly large well-like structure, above which hovered a glowing cerulean orb, bound up in crisscrossing threads of white light.  At varying intersections of the impossibly dense thread were tiny golden spheres. A horrible sense of deja vu overtook Neil as he beheld the gentle turning of this web.

“You behold the Threads of Fate,” said Nox, moving out from behind one of the holographic terminals on Neils' left.  

She was adorned in a cerulean robe with golden pauldrons.  There was a royal aura about her, and given the uniform attire of all the other Somni in attendance, it was clear that she was the one in charge.  

“I,” Neil began, but words failed him.  So much was happening so quickly. He had no idea where he was, what he was doing there, and what his family must be going through with him suddenly gone.  

“This must be quite troubling for you,” Nox offered, grasping his shoulder in a comforting yet strangely hollow grip.  It was as though he was being touched by a ghost.  

“This is just so confusing,” Neil explained.  

“Perhaps we should start from the beginning then,” Nox said.

She gestured to Rem who busied himself at the central well.  With a few flourishes from him, the scene changed, and the cerulean gem in the center took on the appearance of a planet.  

“Millions of years ago,” Nox began. “We Somni lived as you do.  Mortals upon the blessed planet of Somnus. Ours was a paradise, and from our bountiful came a wealth of technology and hoarded knowledge.  In time, we began to become aware of not only the existence of other planets throughout the universe which sustained life but entire planes of reality apart from our own.”

The planet's image changed slowly, with a number of the continents now covered in sheets of ice, while others succumbed to wildfires and volcanic eruptions.  

“However this knowledge came at a terrible price.  We suffered calamity after calamity, which we later discovered to be deliberate attempts to destroy us.  The Somni had grown too powerful, and we were becoming a threat.”

“A threat to who?” Neil asked.  

The image shifted once more, a black cloud now consuming the entire planet.  

“We came to call it Kosmaro: the Nightmare.  It is an entity as old as time itself, in constant combat with the Dreamer.  One creates, the other destroys. As the final catastrophe rent our world asunder, the Dreamer reached out to a select few of us and granted us with these forms.”

Nox gestured to the room at large. Neil only noticed then that several of the Somni had gathered round to witness this retelling, starry gazes twinkling gently in the dim light.  

“So,” Neil interjected delicately.  “Why am I here?”

Nox let out an approving noise; a musical hum exhaled from her like a sigh.  “For you are a Binder.”

“I've heard that term a lot lately,” Neil replied. “But I have no idea what it is.”  

Nox turned her attention back to the well.  “It comes down to the Threads of Fate. The history of our universe is one full of opportunity and choice. Yet several events are preordained and must occur according to the whim of the Dreamer.  Their dream, their plan.  Yet the incidental day-to-day interactions upon which new realities may come to exist are immaterial to them.  No matter how many threads are created, all will eventually converge upon a Crossroad.”

Nox pointed to the bright golden stars floating around the threads.  Neil could now notice in greater clarity that thousands of these strands all seemed to converge around every one of these points.  

“This is a multiverse then,” Neil offered.  

“This one is familiar with the theory,” Rem said almost approvingly, before returning to his usual stoicism. “Though their kind has barely begun to scratch the surface of the implications.”  

“With a Binder in their midst, perhaps they will learn more,” Nox chastised. She then elaborated.  “You see, Neil.  Kosmaro has been attacking these Crossroads.  And when a Crossroad is destroyed...”

With a wave of her sleeved arm, a single golden star flickered out of existence.  The white strands that connected to it floated about aimlessly for a moment, connecting to nothing and seemingly adrift in the void. Another wave and a second Crossroad vanished.  Now those few threads which had been connected at both points faded from existence.  

Neil swallowed hard, as he remembered the desperate cries of those phantoms.

We want to go home.  

And what had Rem said?

You can't.  

“My family,” Neil sputtered.  “Are they dead?”

Rem, frank as ever, immediately responded.  “A few thousand variations of this one's family have been lost to the phenomena, but they number among several quintillion lives.  It is of little consequence one way or the other as far as you are concerned.”  

“Rem,” Nox warned, her tone approaching annoyed while still retaining its ethereal quality. “The thread from which you originate has not been lost. However, it and many other adjacent threads remain in jeopardy. It is fortunate that we discovered you when we did.”

The image above the well zoomed in on a small section of the web, Two Crossroads were now enlarged, with the threads between them more easily distinguishable.  What Neil had once taken for a few hundred were in fact several thousand.

“Binders are Somni who are able to traverse the Threads of Fate to repair the damage done.  Kosmaro is as old as time itself, and thus the strain on our universe is an inevitable part of it.  Some day in the future, Kosmaro shall, eventually, win the battle.  But Binders do their part to delay that unhappy hour as long as possible,” Nox explained.  

One of the golden lights dimmed into a dull grey, and the threads were once again floating about in tatters, loosely connected to the other.  It looked like a badly frayed knot.  

“And to do that, Binders must enter these Crossroads and set the actions right.  Things must play out according to the will of the Dreamer. If they are successful,” Nox touched the dimmed Crossroad once more and its light returned, setting the strands right again.  “Balance is restored.”  

Neil was doing all he could to keep his head straight.  In summary, there was a multiverse full of temporal weak points, and these strange alien beings were saying he was one of a select few capable of repairing it.  

“How?” Neil spluttered out finally.  “How am I supposed to fix those? I've never seen anything like this before.”

“It is better to show you rather than tell you,” Nox said.  “But for now, you should return to the world from whence you came.  Rem shall be in contact with you, and will come for you when the time is right.”

“Rem?” Neil asked nervously.  The stern specter had not done much in their brief interactions to inspire a sense of camaraderie in him.  “Can't it be you?”

“Nox is the Voice of the Dreamer.  She has matters well beyond the scope of managing this one,” Rem sighed.  “I shall serve as overseer and – if the need arises – protector.”  

“Take heart, Neil,” Nox said soothingly.  “It is a long road you have ahead of you, but we shall be your allies every step of the way.”  

With a popping sound, all the lights on the station dimmed.  The room slipped away to darkness, and Neil Brown felt himself falling once more into nothingness.

[winterysomnium]

Hello! How do you do? All right then! Since it's okay, for the fictional kiss prompt, wangxian (11). I am, as always, weak for Lan Zhan kissing the life out of Wei Ying. It can be modern or canon setting. Teen (what's canon tragedy? Is that burnt food? We don't eat it *cough*) or adult wangxian. Surprise me! (///∇///✿) your replies to the asks has already had my soul ascending, I am so happy beyond words each time, bless you *wipes tears* and Thank you in advance (〃‿〃✿)

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I had so much fun writing it!! ♥ Also I love the asks I love talking about WangXian they are so so good

hope you’ll enjoy the fic!

—

Wangxian, modern AU, 11. when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more

Here’sthe thing: Wei Ying knows something is about to give between them.

Something’s about to snap, something that’ll eitherpull them in or apart and the way Lan Zhan doesn’t avoid him but doesn’t letWei Ying approach him either – which he’s not really trying to do that desperately, if he’s being fair –solidifies Wei Ying’s insides into a block of bitter, wet concrete, dragginghis feet even heavier.

Wei WuXian so so sojust wanted to find a way to get out of the banquet the Lan family is throwingthis year, willing to miss the fun and the amazing wine and the way Lan Zhan wouldget adorably sleepy after nine but would still let Wei Ying drag him around theestate gardens nonetheless all the years before; willing to pretend he was sickor just forgot about the business party completely, you know how bad his memory is, Jiang Cheng, haha – but JiangCheng was having none of it, practically dragging him into their car andsitting him down in their assigned seats, his grip as firm as his glare and thelecture he’s been giving Wei Ying since morning.

As the head designer of the Yunmeng company attendingwas the polite, proper thing for Wei WuXian to do. But as someone who has sleptwith the CEO’s younger brother just two days prior, it was incredibly difficultto just not hide underneath the table or drink himself under it, the firstglass of Emperor’s Smile already a stain on his lips.

It would’ve been fine, had it been anyone but LanZhan.

It would’ve been fine, if Lan Zhan hadn’t been tipsyand pliant, if he hadn’t met Wei Ying with a look so heartbroken afterwards, with something sad and small firmlyclutched inside the confines of his silence, his stare.

It would’ve been fine if Lan Zhan’s mouth wasn’t adisappointed curve and Wei Ying’s world hadn’t spun upside down, his lungsfilling up with regret for oxygen, spilling all over his teeth, sinking intohis blood, saturated, corroding its core.

“Are you still drunk, Lan Zhan?” he’d asked and LanWangJi shook his head breathlessly, tensing when Wei Ying moved and quicklyturning away when Wei WuXian tried to hurriedly put his clothes back on, pickingup all the pieces they’ve scattered around the floor, all the borders they’vecrossed laid out and crumpled and it felt like rewinding time, like they’d beenwoven back into yesterday but still had changed, still had touched, still –

a mess.

Wei WuXian had paused, fingers on the clasp of hisbelt; somehow they’re miles apart, him and Lan Zhan.

They’re – this is – messy. Messed up, Wei WuXian’s heart hitched in his chest.

This was never going to be anything but a mess between them, he’d realized.

(It wasn’t ever meant to be.)

“We shouldn’t let this happen again, Lan Zhan,” he’dsaid.

He shouldn’t let it happen again, motwhen Lan Zhan’s too good for someone like Wei Ying, Lan Zhan who never wouldhave touched him were he not drunk, Lan Zhan whose shoulders had never lookedso defeated –

so Wei Ying ran, and kept running, hasn’t answered anyof Lan Zhan’s messages, hasn’t sent him any back and now he’s left breathlessand tired and if he thinks too much, thinks too long, his eyes sting, the worldblurs and blurs and blurs and now here he is, longingly watching the distantspace of Lan Zhan’s back and afraid to say more than hello, too ashamed to meethis eyes.

Surprisingly, it’s Jin Guang Yao of all people whopulls him aside two hours into the awkward dinner and the stilted, too politeconversations, Lan XiChen in tow – ohGod, does he know? he definitely knows, Wei Ying’s so dead – and the bad, bad feeling in hischest burns deeper, scorches his mouth.

“You truly don’t remember, do you?” Lan Xichen askshim, quietly.

“What do you mean?” Wei Ying asks in return and he’stold about the party three years ago he can’t recall too well – read: at all– because he’d been – well. He’d been fighting to save Wen Ning’s company, simultaneouslyworking on a huge project for the four partnered companies and at the end of itall, he’d been accused of leaking legal documents and campaign ideas to the ‘rivaling’Wen company, drinking down all the bitter words with wine and a cocktail toomany, forgetting about the headache pills he’d taken a few hours back.

He’d been so worn out at the point, so angry, he justwanted to quit, just wanted to stop, to stop being blamed for every employeethat had to have been let go because the campaign hadn’t worked out as hoped,accused of not giving enough, not caringenough – he can’t remember anything from that night after, besides waking upat home the next day.

But apparently, apparently–

he bursts into the dinner hall, the crowded roomsuddenly so much to bear, too much space to search, too many seconds lostbecause he can’t see Lan Zhan anywhere, can’t find him, needs to find him, right this moment, right now.

Because – because:Lan Zhan had confessed to him, that night.

Lan Zhan had confessed to him and Wei Ying doesn’tremember a single word.

He frantically scans through the scenery of shouldersand jewelry and chattering mouths and there’s a hint of him on the balcony:just the briefest of moments where Wei Ying catches a mirage of Lan WangJi’ssuit’s sleeve, his heartbeat too loud in his ears, louder than his thoughts,the words they try to form.

He runs across the room, rushes through thehalfhearted ‘sorry’s and ‘excuse me’s and then the night sky opensabove the crown of his head and Lan Zhan’s there, looking into the depths ofthe garden, not paying attention to any of the guests sharing the stars and thechampagne with him and Wei Ying’s heart burns in his throat, presses againsthis voice until he has to form syllables or he’s going to explode, the beatfast fast fast; he doesn’t pay attention to anyone else, either, anymore.

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, I didn’t mean to ignore you afterwe’ve slept together!” he shouts, so focused on Lan Zhan he doesn’t care whohears, who sees, who watches – whatmatters is Lan Zhan’s bewildered attention on him, finally, finally: they’re looking at each otherat the same time.

There’s so much Wei Ying needs to say but it allscatters when Lan WangJi turns around and Wei Ying’s drawn into him like he’sbeing lead on strings, like someone’s pushing his back.

“I didn’t want it to be just once either! I wanted totalk to you! I wanted to stay! I wanted – I wanted you!” he continues desperately, a step away, hesitant to touch: ifhe touches Lan Zhan’s hand, he’s going to want more, he’s going to want all ofhim, he’s going to –

he’s going to fall in love, all over again.

“Lan Zhan, I – I didn’t know – Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan,I’ve never regretted that it was you! I wantedit to be you. I want it to be you. Noone else but you. Who else but you?” He looks up and smiles, smiles up up up athim and then Lan Zhan exhales, softly, a trembling not concealed within thesound; he reaches over to caress Wei WuXian’s cheek.

(It snaps.)

The something shudders, bursts and it’s Wei Ying’s apprehension and caution and he laughs, laughsas he crashes into Lan Zhan, into his arms and laughs, laughs when Lan Zhanholds him closer, tighter, his whole being still unsure, shaky, in disbelief.

“… Wanted you. Want you. Who else but you,” Lan WangJirepeats, slowly, like he’s relearning the language and Wei Ying reaches up tocup his cheeks, cradle his face between his palms.

(Lan Zhan is crying and Wei WuXian can taste it on hisfingertips first.)

He kisses him, not knowing what else to do, how elseto cope, how else to comfort him and Lan Zhan makes a sound, a cut off hitch,something stolen by Wei Ying’s lips and Wei Ying pulls back, wonders if he’smessed up again, if maybe it wasn’t –

“Lan Zhan – Lan Zhan I’m sorry, was I not supposed to–” he starts then startles when Lan Zhan kisses him, holding Wei Ying so securely, so tenderly, so tightly it engulfs his whole being, thewhole of Wei Ying’s core.

He’s being kissed and kissed and kissed and he kisseshim, too, kisses until the heat of their lips transfers to his insides, untilhe’s a second away from moaning out Lan Zhan’s name, until –

until there’s loud footsteps and a yelp, an abruptstandstill at the entrance of the balcony.

“Wei WuXian! Where did you – oh my god!” Jiang Chengnearly crashes into the half closed glass door, stunned, voice strangled andface red; he pivots on his feet and turns away, just as quick, rushing backinto the thick of the crowd.

Lan Zhan has the dignity to look a little embarrassed,then a little annoyed at being interrupted, as if kissing Wei WuXianunapologetically and publicly is his right rather than an offense and he lickshis lips impatiently, his eyes on Wei Ying’s own mouth again, his lip grazingWei Ying’s and Wei Ying  –

Wei Ying just starts laughing, again.

Starts laughing into the press of a kiss and laughsuntil Lan Zhan lifts him onto the railing and settles himself between histhighs, pressing himself against Wei Ying, presses a kiss after a kiss afterkiss, Wei Ying laughs until there’s no air left to spare.

He was wrong.

He was so so wrong about this.

(They weren’t meant to fall apart, at all.)  

—

(feel free to leave me prompts here )

[arigatouiris]

out of my league // t.h — 12

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: depressive/triggering thoughts, explicitly mentioned; swearing; eventual fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; pining; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: Again, more angst. But there’s fluff if you squint a bit. Don’t worry, this will pick up soon~ 

Also, if you want me to add you to the series taglist, just drop a note or comment! ^^

Word count: 3644

Series Masterlist 

 11 | 12 | 13 

Harrison never considered himself a very successful actor. Though, he had never really found himself being too attached to the profession as Tom was. He loved acting, and that’s where he wanted to end up, this was certain. And he believed that if he didn’t make it, he would be okay, and wouldn’t feel too disheartened. He wouldn’t feel as if the world collapsed above him, and that he was carrying the weight of his sorrow in his bones. However, Harrison was wrong.

    When his director told him that his show was now cancelled—he didn’t care what reason it was. Three days into being in Portugal, having been so excited in diving into a new opportunity, Harrison told himself his big break was finally here. But, his director walks and and tells him that it wasn’t his fault or it wasn’t anything that had to do with him, but the funding hadn’t come in and the production team had cancelled and all Harrison could think of was how he wasn’t Tom Holland. He was never jealous of his best friend, he never told himself he was, and this wasn’t jealousy—he knew he was more than happy for his friend’s success, but the failure of his own broke his heart.

And the flight he took to London had him rethinking every choice he had made. His blue eyes were always filled with some or the other positive emotion, but were now devoid of feeling. Strangely, he knew he had to surround himself with family or friends to help him cope, but he didn’t want any of it. He didn’t want sympathy or empathy, he wanted someone who wouldn’t linger on this topic.

    And the only person he could think of was (y/n). Strangely, he understood why Tom found her company pleasing. Even if Harrison had no intention in his mind, and thought of the girl as only his good friend, Harrison understood what was so likeable about her. She treated them both as regular people, and it isn’t easy for someone to do. Harrison himself found it difficult sometimes to have a conversation with someone more popular, but (y/n) made it look way too easy. As soon as his flight landed, Harrison shot a message to (y/n), and awaited her reply. She didn’t respond immediately, but agreed to meet him that evening.

(y/n), on the other hand, was slowly healing. Healing took a lot out of her, and she buried herself in reading and watching Star Wars again from the beginning. She was currently watching Return of the Jedi when she saw Harrison’s message. Shouldn’t he be in Portugal? Her mind jumped to thinking maybe something was wrong, and accepted to meet him that evening. Standing up, she quickly rushed to the shower and began to get ready.

She thought of Tom as she was getting ready. She wasn’t stupid, she knew that they had almost kissed the last time they met, but she told herself it was just the spur of the moment. She would definitely apologize when she met Tom next, and felt slightly glad that he was sending her messages everyday. She knew Croatia was an hour ahead of London, and that communicating wouldn’t be too hard; but, considering he was acting and it would take most of the day, and sometimes night, she didn’t tell him too much. Their messages were cordial, and she planned them to be that way.

Harrison and (y/n) met at the usual bar. Harrison was already sitting there when (y/n) showed up, confused and not aware that Harrison was in the need of some mental comforting. She embraced him, like she would any friend, and sat across him. The two were quiet, her not knowing how to bring it up and Harrison not knowing where to start. Calling the waiter, Harrison broke the silence and ordered them both a beer each.

    “Haz, what’s wrong?” Her voice broke him out of his reverie. “You’re back?”

Harrison looked at (y/n) and sighed, “They cancelled our show, (y/n).”

Her eyes widened a second later but that was all that her reaction was. Biting her lip, she placed her hand on Harrison’s, bringing a smile to his face. She squeezed his hand and said nothing for a full minute.

    “May I ask why?”

    “Apparently the production team pulled out. Not sure why entirely. Didn’t have the heart to ask.”

(y/n) observed her friend for a full moment. He was trying very hard to look like it didn’t affect him; Harrison had a calm and composed demeanour which was begging to slip at that second, an instinct that she noticed rather easily.

    “Haz,” she began, looking right into his eyes. “You can feel bad, you know. This calls for it.”

Harrison chuckled, “Do you want me to feel bad?”

    “Actually, it’ll do you good,” Haz looked at her like she was mental. “I’m not kidding!”

    “Why?” His voice was low.

The waiter came back with their drinks and (y/n) let go of Harrison’s hand. He wanted to understand what she was trying to tell him and why she was saying it, but perhaps, the grief was still fresh and didn’t allow him to think as clearly as he wished he could.

    “Susannah, you know about her?” (y/n) asked. Harrison nodded. “She’s my manager. And ever since we found out where she had gone, and ever since she had returned, she’s been very unhappy. Her unhappiness projected itself as anger and bitterness. And she took it out on everyone at work.”

    “That’s terrible.” Harrison said, not sure where this was going.

    “She asked me not to come to work,” His eyes widened now. “She told me I was the reason she was unhappy and a great many other things that made me feel terrible about the choices I made and what I’ve done—”

    “(y/n), you’ve wanted nothing but the best for her. Don’t blame yourself.” Harrison’s voice sounded super kind. It melted her heart.

    “That’s the thing, Haz. I thought it was best for her. I made those actions. She wanted to be left alone so she could grieve. And I didn’t give her that. Sure, she could have made it clear that she wanted to be alone at first, but some people grieve differently. And I never gave her that chance.” Harrison blinked.

    “Sounds very familiar.” He muttered.

(y/n) smiled bitterly, “It does. I did the same thing to Tom. I hurt him using my grief as a weapon. And he only tried to apologize.”

Harrison smiled. “So, your take on this is?”

(y/n) rolled her eyes before saying, “My take on this is simple, Haz. Allow yourself to feel bad. Susannah isn’t letting that happen and that’s why she’s hurting. Let yourself feel bad, Haz. For the past few days, since she’s told me not to come to work, I’ve been feeling bad a lot. But, doesn’t end there. It’s getting better slowly, and I can feel it. Please, don’t try to hide it.”

Harrison smiled at her before lifting up his beer can.

    “To feeling sad.”

(y/n) giggled before clicking her can with his, “To feeling sad.”

The two had never thought it possible but it felt like they have known each other since forever. Friendship and romance were not different. They were the same; albeit two different versions. They were the different versions of the same desire to be close and stick to one another. Harrison and (y/n) could laugh and smile at things as lovers did, but at the same time, their bond needn’t require physical closeness in any way. It was a pull so pure, it gave meaning to the world platonic.

    “I’ve always believed that this whole calm nature of mine is a lie,” Harrison said, after his fourth can of beer.

    “A lie?”

Nodding, “A lie. I don’t know… Feels like everything I say and do is a lie. I feel like I’m constantly lying to people about who I am. But, I know I’ve nothing to hide, though this feeling never really goes away.”

    “You feel like an imposter?” (y/n) asked, taking a sip of her own beer.

Harrison nodded. “An imposter.”

    “Harrison, you’re so humble. I’ve critiqued things and people for years now, I can tell apart any sort of lie. It’s both a curse and a gift, really.”

Harrison laughed. “So, let me tell you this. You’re very talented. And your calm nature is no lie. You’ve been telling yourself that you can’t feel grief like the rest of us, and that’s the only lie. Nothing else, love. You’re a darling and you need to believe that.”

Harrison leaned back, “Aww. You’re making me swoon here, really.”

    “Shut it.” (y/n) said, giggling.

    “Have you ever had a dream you gave up on?” Harrison asked, out of nowhere.

(y/n) was drunk enough to answer this with no hesitation, “I’ve always wanted to write a TV show.”

Harrison frowned, “That’s still possible—”

    “Don’t be like Tom, Haz. He told me the same thing. I just… I don’t think I ever could. It’s something… I don’t know.” She couldn’t find the words.

    “You’re giving up on this because you don’t know?” Haz made it sound ridiculous.

(y/n) rolled her eyes, “I know it sounds ridiculous, Haz. But, I just can’t. It’s…”

    “You’re not brave enough to take a risk, is that it?” Haz pressed.

    “It’s everything, really. I won’t deny it, it’s a risk and I’m scared. But, I haven’t had the best and very confident days either. Everything that went on with Susannah and—”

    “Is that why you broke down the other day?” Haz’s voice was low.

(y/n) nodded quietly. I miss Tom, she thought, randomly; unsure if it was the intoxication that made her believe so, or if it was pent up feelings from the last time she saw him. She was aware, that each time she thought of Tom, she thought of loving him. She was aware of it now, she knew it was too soon and perhaps it was because he’s an actor that she believed she loved him, but some part of her heart knew otherwise. Some part of her heart told her it was because Tom tries so hard with people he cares about; it was because Tom had a laugh that would crease his eyes in the corner and made him seem so happy; it was because his happiness was contagious. She knew she thought she loved him because Tom was just that easy to love—humble and kind, even when the world showered him with affection.

    In her quiet wonder, she knew she was in and over herself for just knowing she loved him. He was someone from an entirely different world; she could never reach up to him.

And perhaps, Harrison saw the dilemma in her at that second. He saw the far-away look in her eye, and her face was transparently thinking of his best friend. The problem here wouldn’t end with Tom confessing to her and her accepting—it was related on a more ideological level. She believed, firmly, that he was out of her league and invariably, so did Tom.

    “You’ll need to book a cab this time,” Harrison chuckled.

(y/n) hit him on the arm playfully before nodding. She stood up with him, Haz’s hand around her shoulder. He radiated a warmth, which was different from the warmth that Tom would send her way. This warmth made her sleepy, calm and everything that fell under serene, while Tom’s warmth sent her stomach to space.

    “Thank you so much.” Harrison said, just as her cab arrived.

    “Haz, I’m here for you. Anytime. Alright?” Harrison chuckled.

    “You’re going to be a great writer someday, (y/n).” He said, looking into her eyes.

    “And if I do, I’m going to cast you as the main character.”

They may have met that evening, feeling low about their circumstances, but it was almost a miracle that they left on a happy note.

*

Tom had just finished acting a scene when he thought of her. It was strange—he found himself repeating her name like a mantra before falling asleep. Somehow the simple pleasure of uttering her name, and the added pleasure of hearing her name was heaven for Tom, and he couldn’t go to bed until dawn, on most days. Isn’t it odd how a single name, a single word associated with her, could bring another person such joy that they inflict insomnia upon themselves and call it a blessing?

    At some point, Tom found himself thinking of the feeling of her hands above his, the night they met for dinner. Tom knew, in between all those sleepless nights, so far away from her, that would remember the feel of her hand around his for the rest of his life.

He sent her a message, “I hope you’ve had a good day today.” He knew about Harrison’s show, and he had called him the night before he left to London. He wanted to give his friend some time, hoping it would heal him more than his words ever could. Just as he was about to put his phone away, it began to ring—startling him, throwing him off balance. When he looked at the name of the contact, his stomach flipped like he was back in school. He immediately answered, placed the phone next to his ear, his eyes widened and his cheeks reddening, breath rolling out of his lips as Tom let out a feeble, “Yes?”

    “I miss you, Tom. I hope you know that.” (y/n)’s voice was soft. Cherry pink. Infused with the intoxication that alcohol provided her.

Worry seeped into his veins and he wondered why she was drunk. Before he could ask, she told him herself.

    “Harrison asked to meet. He was feeling down, the poor fellow. We talked and drank and I took a cab home. I’m safe.”

He could feel the worry being replaced with relief. It was funny how much control she had over him, being countries away.

    “How much did you have to drink, (y/n)? Did you drink water?”

    “Four pints, I think? And yes, I’m drinking water right now. Anyway, I’m sorry for the other night. I wanted to make things clear with you before I start feeling bad about myself for the way I behaved.”

Tom chuckled. He had a shoot to complete, but he wasn’t going for that now. The time was close to midnight, and he had had enough for the day. The director would definitely understand.

    “I miss you so much, (y/n). I do.” Tom spoke, his voice low.

It was no picnic missing her, Tom realized. It drove him insane on most days, he couldn’t concentrate, he found it hard to maintain an appetite, and he found it even harder to sleep. All this for someone he doesn’t even have, he wonders if on the off chance, how things would be if he had her.

There was silence on the other end, but he knew it wasn’t the bad kind. He wanted her to continue talking, he wanted her to pour her heart out, to tell him things about her—to fill his heart with her details, to make him feel so full that he could explode; but Tom knew he had an infinite amount of storage in him just for her.

    “Susannah’s been… She’s been hurting,” (y/n) began, her voice breaking. Days went by when she felt the sorrow on her own, and it was perhaps the first time since coming home did she allow herself to openly break in front of another.

Tom listened, as well as he could, as kind as he could. It was her pain and he embraced it with poise, he knew she was hurting and this was what had happened the night he met her, before leaving. He could tell she cried in bits where she felt confused about her anger and hurt, he knew she struggled trying to be rational about the entire situation, and he knew she was simply in pain regarding being blamed.

    “I did the same thing to you…” She voiced and it threw him off guard.

    “What?” He asked, feeling his heart beat against his chest.

    “I blamed you for my sorrow. I did the same thing that Susannah—”

    “Don’t finish that sentence, (y/n). What happened with us is something you can’t compare with this. They’re both very different scenarios, love. Don’t do that. Don’t corner yourself against a wall. I know you want to, but don’t.”

    “Tom, about the other night…” He felt his heart beat against his ear. For some reason, he knew what she was going to bring up. “I know we almost…”

He gulped and pulled his sleeve away from his throat. He was sitting inside his air-conditioned room, but he still felt sweaty. Tom felt as though he could chew up nails and spit out a barbed wire fence.

    “We almost kissed.” She finished, and he almost fainted.

He didn’t know what to say. He knew she was being direct because she was drunk, but he now so desperately wished he was drunk too so as to not feel this nervousness that brought him down like anchors tied to each of his legs.

    “We…” Tom gulped. “We almost did, yeah.”

    “Tom… Tom, you can’t see me that way. You can’t.” She said, almost begging, her voice breaking at each word.

He felt as if his insides were on fire while speaking to her regarding this.

    “Why not?” He suddenly ran out of liquid in his throat. His throat was on fire, and so was his stomach and his brain and his eyes.

    “Because you’re way out of my league.”

Is she being serious? Tom thought, rubbing his palm over his mouth. He could taste the sweat in his palms, and when he blinked he felt tears well up in his eyes. His head was spinning and he suddenly fought the urge to throw up.

    “You’re wrong, (y/n).” If anything, it’s you. You’re out of my league. Always have been.

He could practically see her shaking her head and not believing his words. But no, now was not the time. He knew she wouldn’t believe him if he told her over phone. She was drunk and sad and alone and in London and he was sober and sad and alone and in Croatia.

    “Sweetheart, you need to sleep.” Tom said, kindly.

    “Tom, I’m sorry. I really am.”

He smiled as he replied, “You have nothing to be sorry for, (y/n). Goodnight.”

*

The morning after, just when she could think about all that she had told Tom the night before, Aditi called her. Her heart leapt, and she wondered if she could go back to work—she wondered if Susannah had changed her mind and forgiven her, if her life could get back on track once more.

    “What’s the scene?” (y/n) sounded perky.

    “She wants you to come in.” Aditi sounded rather monotonous, hiding something she clearly didn’t want to divulge on call.

Getting ready as quickly as she could, (y/n) felt her heart beat against her chest. She was nervous, almost as if she was going in for an interview for a new job. It took her about 30 minutes to reach her office, and once she was inside, she found Susannah near her desk.

    “Susannah—”

Susannah turned around and beside her stood an older male, salt and pepper hair. He had a large nose, but it strangely sat well on his face. (y/n) blinked before turning to Susannah again, wondering who this person was. Her eyes fell on her own desk, someone’s bag had been kept there, and she wondered whose it was.

    “This is Martin Posner,” Susannah said, “He’s our newest addition.”

Aditi entered the area and stood right behind (y/n). Looking at Martin, the Indian woman’s eyes widened before turning to (y/n)’s back.

    “That’s… That’s great. Welcome—”

    “He’s our new critique.” Susannah finished.

Her heart fell. A new critique? Her throat suddenly felt dry. She felt Aditi’s hand grab her elbow, but (y/n) didn’t budge.

    “What do you… Um… Am I transferred?” Her voice broke at the end.

    “You can pack your things and leave, (y/n). We won’t be needing your services.”

What Susannah said stabbed (y/n)’s heart, like someone had ripped through her carefully stitched up world and exposed the infected, pulsing red tissue that she thought was healing.

    “What?”

    “You heard me. Get your things and leave. This isn’t a firing. You have to resign—”

    “What if I won’t?” It came like a small ember, her courage.

    “I’m not giving you a pink slip. If you resign on your own, it won’t look bad. If you still won’t, then I’ll have no choice.” Susannah said, coldly.

    “Susannah, on what basis are you doing this? I’ve been doing my job! You were overworking me and I still didn’t complain—”

    “Don’t make this difficult—”

Aditi grabbed (y/n)’s hand and pulled her away, just as (y/n) broke down. Before exiting, Aditi turned to Susannah and sent her a rather nasty glare, and missed how Susannah’s fists were clenched tight.

*

It seemed to her as though everything that was good and true had been blasted out of the world. All those things had been crushed destroyed made to disappear. Susannah struggled through every hour of each day feeling as if her each breath would be the last. She didn’t know what she was doing and why she was doing it for the most part, and it left her feeling nasty and guilty—she found solace in hurting those around her and perhaps, the most was out of hurting (y/n).

She remembered like it was yesterday when she spoke to her as Stephen, wanting to come out as Susannah.

    “What do you think of the name ‘Susannah’?”

    “I think it’s a wonderful name. Why’re you asking me, Stephen?”

    “I think I’ve always known, (y/n). I think I’ve always known I was a she and not a he.”

She remembered how (y/n) looked at her at that moment. No surprise. No judgement.

    “Alright then, Susannah.”

Susannah felt herself sink to her toes as soon as she closed the door in her new flat. Her eyes immediately travelled to the wall on which a single photograph was fixed. (y/n), herself and Aditi and the rest of the office—looking happy and cheerful as they were a while ago.

She pressed her hands to her mouth and cried, thinking if what she had done was wrong. She thought of when (y/n) opened up to her one night, when they were drinking alone in a bar. (y/n) had told her she’d always wanted to be a writer. She chose to be a critic instead because it ‘suited’ her. Susannah had always known the truth—being a critic never suited her, it was simply a cage. A cage that prevented her from dreaming. A cage that made her believe that her dreams were unimaginable.

A cage that she was out of now. For good.

I am so sorry, Susannah thought. And felt it too.

series taglist:

@strangemaximoff​, @aestheticgaybish​, @noobmaster63​, @why-are-all-the-teens-gay​, @wonders-of-the-multiverse​, @boushalaivre​, @jackiehollanderr​, @nerdypisces160​, @yourwonderbelle​, @quackson606​, @stickyqueenbouquetsstuff​, @fandoms-stuff​, @danicarosaline​, @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo, @multiverseprincess @spider-mendes @jazzhandspotter @the-rad-mad @itsjlynadaxoxo

[foreverconfused-foreverlost]

Pinky promise

Warning: This is an age regression fic. Not to be confused with age play. Age regression is when somebody reverts to a child-like state of mind, often as a coping mechanism for things like ptsd, depression, anxiety etc. 

Angst/Fluff: Starts with angst but ends with fluff

Summary: You had a stressful day at work today and find yourself slipping into little space while on your way home. Luckily Namjoon is onto the rescue! 

You had a really hard time today during work today. Your boss just kept yelling at you and your coworkers seemed to be easier to aggravate then usual. It was almost like it was ‘make y/n upset’ day in the office and no one bothered to let you know that or everyone just had collective sticks up their asses today. You’d be able to withstand it, you’d be fine no in fact you are fine. 

Someone runs past you, knocking into you so roughly that you fall to the floor but they don't bother stopping or checking to see if you’re alright as they rush down the staircase. Your knees and palms sting from the rough fall but that’s not what’s bothering you, in fact you can’t even find it in you to get up all you can do is stare straight ahead knowing that had you been only a few more steps forward then you would’ve fallen down the stairs. You only snap out of it due to the alarm on your phone suddenly going off and you take your phone out of your pocket but not before getting up. 

“Finally!” You accidentally shout upon seeing that it’s time for you to go home but when you realize that you just screamed you quickly look around hoping no one was around to notice and to your luck no one was. 

You make it down the stairs, clock out and head out of the building in record timing. All you wanted to do today was go home and relax. You know that Namjoon will most likely still be out when you get home which makes you a little sad especially considering the day you had but just thinking about your boyfriend lightens your spirits. You really hope his day isn’t as crappy as yours had been. You pull out your phone trying to decide if you should text him now or wait until you get home but before you can even make your decision a car whirs by you. This wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the fact that the car went so fast that you got splashed thanks to a huge puddle that was now formed from the rain earlier this morning. Your soaked clothes seemed to be the final straw as tears rushed down your cheeks. It was not only the final straw on the tears you held in all day but also on the stress as you now felt yourself slipping into little space. 

It took you a few times to pull up Namjoon’s contact on your phone since your hands were shaking but after a few tries you managed to call him. However he wasn't picking up and all you could think was the worst. You clutched your phone to your chest and ran the rest of the way home. 

Due to your current mindset of little it took you longer to unlock the door with your key then it should've but when you finally managed you slammed the door closed behind you and threw yourself to the ground crying your eyes out. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Namjoon came home he definitely wasn't expecting the first thing he saw to be you curled up in a ball and sobbing. His heart broke at the sight and he kneeled down in front of you. 

“y/n” He spoke softly to catch your attention and it did the trick, your eyes now meeting his 

“Feelin little” you murmured softly unsure of yourself and he immediately went into caretaker mode and scooped you up into his arms 

“How about we get you out of those wet clothes, into a bath and a fresh outfit. You can tell me what happened whenever you’re ready, okay princess?”

You simply nodded not wanting to talk at the moment and buried your head into his neck. He carried you into the bathroom and set you onto the toilet seat. He turned on the water and made sure the temperature was just right before letting it fill up the tub. He turned around to you and helped you out of your clothes before setting you into the tub. 

“Purple” you mumbled doing your best to stop yourself from sniffling but failing 

It took Namjoon a minute but he realized you were talking about the color bath bomb you wanted and grabbed it then dropped it in the bath 

You looked at the bath bomb in awe, giggling when the water started turning purple. This made Namjoon happy seeing as how you were finally smiling. Sadly this didn’t last long and you were frowning when he was almost done cleaning you up

“Am I a bad girl? E-everyone was mean to me. Yelling and- and tripping me and hurted my knees and I almost fell down stairs and got splashed and- and only mean things happen to mean people. What did I do wrong?” You questioned innocently starring up at Namjoon 

For a second all Namjoon could feel was anger, not at you but at how your coworkers and boss had treated you today. However when you saw the angry look on his face you thought he was angry at you 

“Joonie hates me” 

“What? No, I could never hate you, baby” 

“Pinky promise?” you questioned while he lifted you up out of the tub and then wrapped you up in a towel. He pulled the plug from the tub so the water could drain and then turned to you 

“Pinky promise” he confirmed linking his pinky with yours 

“Want me to carry you to your room?” he asked you 

“Yes, please” Before you even had a chance to change your mind, not like you would, he was lifting you up and carried you into the bedroom the two of you shared 

“Let’s pick out something for you to wear” he told you, putting you down and opening the draw that held your little space outfits 

“Minnie mouse! Minnie mouse! I wanna wear Minnie mouse jammies!” You shrieked excitedly jumping up and down in joy 

Namjoon pulled out the Minnie mouse pajama set and couldn’t stop himself from chuckling seeing how happy you are. You seemed to have forgotten all about your horrible day and he was glad. 

“why Joonie laugh?” You wondered 

“I’m happy princess, that’s all” He told you helping you get into your pajamas 

“can I have Joonie junior? Please? And dino nuggets for dinner ” You pleaded deciding to use the puppy dog eyes so he’d have a harder time turning you down 

The second Namjoon told you yes you had zoomed over to your plushie pile, looking for the crab plushie. It was the first stuffed animal Namjoon gave you and to most a crab plushie of all stuffed animals sounds odd but to you it wasn’t, well considering his love for crabs it wasn’t. It was your favorite stuffed animal simply because it was the first stuffed animal he gave you. You named the crab plushie after Namjoon, Joonie for short. You liked having it with you all the time and it was your favorite comfort object when you were feeling little.

“Found it!” You giggled waving the plushie back and forth and then you ran out of the room and into the dining area. 

“Don’t run, you might hurt yourself” 

“Okay, Joonie!”

Sure your day may’ve started off awful but at least it wouldn’t stay that way and the next time you did have a bad day as long as you had Namjoon by your side to cheer you up then you knew you could make it through anything no matter if you were in little space or not. 

[mikrokosmos]

Chopin - Cello Sonata in g minor (1846)

Early on in his career, Chopin had written music for piano and orchestra, or chamber works. It seems that he did so mostly out of convention and expectation; you couldn’t establish yourself as a ‘great composer’ without writing large scale music in the tradition. But soon after he abandoned those and stuck with solo piano music, and works that were in more free-form structures. However, late in his life, he wrote this cello sonata; a large scale chamber work that followed conventional structure. It was kind of a gift to his close friend, the cellist Auguste Franchomme. It also seemed to be a personal work for him. In letters to his sister, Chopin talked about how much difficulty he had with the work, saying ‘I write a little and cross out a lot’, and ‘Sometimes I am pleased with it, sometimes not. I throw it into a corner and then pick it up again.’ The work is very concentrated, the first movement mostly built out of small motivic like fragments, very far removed from the lyrical Chopin we know and love. This sonata isn’t very popular and I think it is because of how “un-Chopin” it seems at times. The first movement starts out with a sad, march-like theme, some have commented it is similar to a motif in the opening song of Schubert’s Winterreise, Gute Nacht. This similarity makes us wonder if Chopin was inspired by the work, or if he was trying to convey the same sense of depression and separation, if his sickness made him know he was going to die soon, and unsure of how to cope. That could be too “Romantic” of an idea, but it is something to consider. The cello pours in, and unlike Chopin’s earlier chamber works, here the instruments are more integrated with each other. The cello plays the march-like melody, and soon the two plummet into a stormy section where the notes are hard to hang onto, like being tossed in waves. It is an expansive movement, out of the small motifs we get a long drama, again I can’t help but think of waves crashing and subsiding. The next melody is thinner and song-like, at times there are three ideas playing at once in counterpoint. It flows seamlessly through the repeats and modulations. In the coda, the tempo deteriorates a bit, and we get a sense of winding down and a curtain fall. The scherzo is like a baroque gigue almost, a jaunty tune over the rocking rhythm. The middle section has the cello shining with the melody over a fluid piano accompaniment. The slow movement is like any of his nocturnes; a gorgeous aria melody playing over soft orchestral colors. If the first two movements were ships in the middle of a sea storm, this is after the storm, the clouds have parted and over the rippling water is a sky full of stars. The last movement takes us back into the drama of the opening. A lot of chromatics take over and create a rich palette. Through all of the intensity, we modulate into the major, and the coda is bright. The depression that took over so much of the work somehow becomes optimistic.

Movements:

1. Allegro moderato

2. Scherzo. Allegro con brio

3. Largo

4. Finale. Allegro

Cellist: Truls Mørk Pianist: Kathryn Stott

[shinneth]

What Myers-Briggs types do you think the main Trifecta characters would be?

Hmm. Well, I had a hard time settling one a single type for most of them, so I tried to find at least two for the six Trifecta “mains” - Paul, Reggie, Brandon, Conway, Barry, and Maylene.

(REALLY stretching it calling Maylene a “main”, especially since Chapter 13 is where she peaked; once Arc II happens, she’ll be in Out Of Focus territory for sure… buuuut she’s made her mark and a lot of readers take notice to her, so I threw her in)

Interestingly, I had no one pegged as INFP (Mediator/Idealist), which is where I fall in. Some characters fit half of it but I couldn’t justify the other half not befitting them (Paul and Conway were the partial contenders - and Brandon to a lesser degree… but Conway’s too charismatic and sociable, while Paul and Brandon aren’t deep thinkers to the point where they’re completely delusional like I am :P).

Paul - INTJ (The Mastermind) or ISTJ (The Inspector)

Safe to say if I had to pick one only, it would be INTJ. Definitely would sooner work alone than a group any day (and if Conway hadn’t been there for him like he’d been so much in Trifecta, this would likely still be the case for him - and Barry is more a result of Trifecta Paul’s character development). Much more comfortable doing things his own way and proving to the world he can handle himself. Even with Trifecta development, Paul still finds social activity a huge chore. Trifecta 21 has Paul go out of his way to be receptive to Conway’s friendliness, and it does take a toll on him physically and mentally. Also a master strategist, as per canon, and questions everything. And god help him if Paul is unsure of anything. It’s why he hates being indecisive in Trifecta; he believes even a wrong choice or a bad idea is better than none at all. And knowing his legendary levels of “patience”, he’s definitely not going to wait all day to find the right path.

With ISTJ… well, this was a Brandon contender, surprise surprise. Intimidating? Comes off that way. Serious? All the damn time. Formal, proper…? Well, he DOES respect his elders, for the most part. If he thinks you’re shit, he’ll treat you like shit, but Paul’s not nearly as eager to start shit as he was in his Trifecta youth. You can definitely say, either in canon or Trifecta, Paul’s a strong worker who follows his own moral code. For all his controversial shit, Paul has never once cheated or tried to take the easy way out. Now, he sure as hell isn’t PATIENT, and he doesn’t really put much stock in going out of his way to upholding social or cultural responsibility (especially the former). But Paul is typically quiet and reserved; while he’s prone to anger, he’s fully capable of keeping calm when he needs to. Even Trifecta Paul can pull this off unless he’s just physically about to break down. Often misunderstood? Ohhhhhh, yeah.

Reggie - ESFJ (The Provider) or ESTJ (The Supervisor)

ESFJ might actually be the lesser of the two here. Mostly because Reggie isn’t really an attention-seeker outside of his own family members. He doesn’t desire the spotlight; he just wants his daddy and lil bro to love and accept him! But Reggie IS an active young man, very social, way more thoughtful than he makes himself out to be, and totally IS the organizer for any family event that happens in the present-day and has been since his mother’s death. He’s the guy that everybody loves. It’s been a common theme in some AUs of his Trifecta persona where he ends up being one of the most popular kids in school with legions of girls who’d drop everything to date him and he just never notices. 

ESTJ covers him more uniformly. Reggie doesn’t want to be the star of the show, but he does want to help and offer advice to absolutely anyone who needs it. And he checks out on the listed traits: honest, dedicated, dignified, and traditional. You could definitely see him as a role model (even if Paul doesn’t) and he’s a good fit for a leader role. 

Brandon - ENFP (The Champion) or ENTJ (The Commander)

One of Brandon’s defining traits (that might’ve not been showcased in Trifecta yet since we’re not yet at the point where it’s mega-relevant) is that he will decide his own destiny and what path to take, damn what anyone else says. So there’s what wins him the ENFP brand. His intuition is pretty top-notch; terminal disease aside, Brandon can totally read Paul like a book even though he’s spent the better part of Paul’s life operating from a great distance and not really being around for his kid. He’s way more perceptive than most give him credit for, and though he’ll never admit it, Brandon does act on his feelings a lot. Even taking an overseas job shortly after his wife died while leaving his kids behind - he can say that’s solely because it was the best way to make up for the income difference, but really, it doubled as his desire to just remove himself from everything of Andrea’s influence. He had a harder time coping with her death than he’ll ever care to admit. Plus, Brandon’s unprofessional abandoning of his post that resulted in his return to Sinnoh? Totally impulsive. He also wasted no time making a detour to Reggie when Brandon learned he was in the hospital, so there you go. 

With ENTJ, this correlates with Brandon’s leadership skills as head of the Kanto Battle Frontier, as well as being the head of his own travelling trifecta with Byron and Palmer. Ambitious is putting it mildly for Brandon, honestly. And while he can be a slave to his feelings at times, Brandon is more known for acting with cold, hard logic. He’s likened to Paul in Trifecta for a reason. Brandon’s all for challenging himself, not afraid to make the hard calls(as his sacrifice for Regigas proves), and hell no he cannot sit still. 

Conway - INTP (The Thinker) or ENTP (The Visionary)

Well, Conway’s pretty damn easy to peg even if you didn’t take his Trifecta traits into account. INTP is Conway’s most well-known traits in a nutshell: absorbs info like a sponge, heavy on the logical, objective side of perspective… he plans, he hypothesizes, he observes, he analyzes, he theorizes, and he can pick up on details most others will overlook. Like, literally everything INTP applies to Conway. He’s the consummate INTP. 

ENTP has many of these traits, as well. Only major point of contention is not enjoying small-talk, as Trifecta Conway especially is very much all for that… at least for the people he deems worthy of it. Barry, he might not be much up for the small-talk as he would Paul or Dawn. I wanted to make sure to at least add one E-type here since I think it should be emphasized that despite his many typical nerd qualities, Conway is very much extroverted even in canon. He’s one of the most extroverted intellectual characters I’ve ever seen, honestly. Canon and Trifecta Conway love going in-depth with their thought processes, and he is a lover of learning. Loyal and energetic are also listed traits here, which are definitely more prominent Trifecta Conway traits, but notable ones nonetheless.

Barry - ENFJ (The Giver) or ESFP (The Performer)

While I think we can agree Barry is more of a “live in the now” type than any other character listed here, contrary to the ENFJ type, the other traits fit Barry like a glove. Especially the “living in their imagination opposed to the real world” aspect. Holy shit that is very Barry. But he is idealistic, highly charismatic, outspoken… and in Trifecta, he’s proved to grow like a weed on characters who’d otherwise never associate with him, such as Conway and eventually Paul. Barry’s also much more of an optimistic individual compared to his future travel-mates and much less prone to letting bad shit get him down for any length of time. 

ESFP speaks for itself. Barry’s the biggest spotlight whore of the Trifecta cast. Fun and livelihood are Barry’s core essences, and while he’s not the most considerate character to ever be around and thinking is secondary to everything, Barry isn’t a complete dick and will feel bad if he realizes he’s inadvertently hurt someone’s feelings. It may take him a while to understand that, but once he does, he’ll go out of his way to make you feel better. Barry doesn’t want to travel around with a couple of sad-sacks, after all. And while Barry’s an acquired taste who can and will rub people the wrong way… you know, compared to Paul and Conway, he’ll come off as the one most “normal” when it comes to people-persons. Barry’s aggressively extroverted, so even if it yields mixed results more often than he’d like, Barry will always go out of his way to connect with people.

Maylene - ISFJ (The Nurturer) or ESTP (The Doer)

Despite being one of the most developed characters among the gym leader category in the Pokemon anime, she is harder to peg down than the others. But IFSJ feels pretty accurate for her. Sensitive to the feelings of others could link to her identity as an aura-user… plus she was insecure enough to let Paul’s worlds wreck her shit. But she is extremely considerate of others, warm and kind-hearted, and bringing out the best in others is what she aims to do as gym leader. Considerate, loyal, unselfish? All fit Maylene perfectly. For a Fighting-type specialist and martial artist, she’s definitely a modest and gentle soul.

ESTP… I think Trifecta 13 proves how incompatible Maylene is with elaborate planning and handling shitloads of detailed instructions. If left to her own devices, Maylene definitely would have handled the issue in chapter 13 by directly confronting Saturn rather than trying her hardest to feign ignorance of his identity. She’s not hot-headed, but Maylene does far better winging it than adhering to something set out for her. Maylene does always strive to better herself, so she’s open to trying new things. While a little on the shy side, she enjoys being around people and she IS the head of her own damn dojo, so… there you go. While it’s a stretch to say she’s pragmatic or logical, she definitely comes off that way when you line her up with other characters of her type specialty and line of work. She is level-headed and down-to-earth, at least; I’ll say that much.

When you break it down, there are common carry-over traits between the two for everyone: 

Paul solidly has Introverted, Thinking, and Judging in his set. Checks out.

Reggie always carries Extroverted, Sensing, and Judging. 

Brandon is a sure bet for Extroverted and Intuitive. 

Conway is a consummate Intuitive, Thinking and Perceiving man. 

Barry is a lock for Extroverted and Feeling. Unsurprising.

Maylene only has Sensing as a consistent trait.

Well, that was more fun than I thought. Hope everyone else enjoys that!